Distractions
by me 4evaful
Summary: When the orcs attack the dwarves outside Rivendell, Kíli does a brave and reckless thing to try and save them - which goes very badly wrong. AU
1. Part 1 Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is going to digress from the book/film quite considerably. Just a quick warning.**

**I own nothing. All characters and locations are property of J.R.R. Tolkien.**

* * *

**- PART ONE - **

1

Why was it so cold?

He just lay there, in the contorted position that he'd landed in, feeling the blood soak into his ripped shirt, the fire burning through his body at complete odds to the cold that bit at his face. He'd only wanted to prove himself, to actually _help_ for a change, but it had gone so, _so_ wrong. And so he lay there, waiting for death.

Why couldn't it hurry up?

He didn't want to be found until after he was dead. He only had a short amount of time for this world anyway, but if he was found, then he had no doubt that they would put him through more pain. And that was something he couldn't take. Yet at the same time, he couldn't get the sight of his brother's face out of his mind. He wondered what had happened to him, he wondered if his brother had escaped...

A shadow appeared across the strip of light that had crept upon his face. He flinched. They had found him, they had found him and they would hurt him until he had finally lost all semblance of pride, all desire to cling onto life.

Why couldn't he have died when he'd hit the ground?

* * *

_Ten days earlier..._

Bilbo had never heard a howl like that before.

It was the kind of howl that froze his blood, that tore at whatever strength he had in his heart.

"Was that... Was that a wolf?"

In answer to his question, a warg leapt down the hill, racing towards them, its sights set on one person – Thorin. It leapt into the air, teeth bared –

An axe embedded itself deep into the warg's back, knocking it out of the air. Gloin removed his weapon, only to have Bifur replace it with yet another blow, this time smashing the beast's skull.

Bilbo took several shallow breaths, staring in shock at the warg's corpse.

"Gundabad wargs," Gandalf said, a note of disgust in his voice as he jabbed the body with his staff.

"Which means that there's an orc pack nearby," Thorin said, immediately taking charge. "We need to leave. Now!"

Bilbo was still struggling to get his head around Thorin's use of the phrase '_orc pack_' when he heard Dwalin say: "but the ponies! They've bought it. The wargs got them first!"

"Not all of them," Gandalf said, pointing to his own steed. "I brought mine with me, and a good thing too."

"Great, so we have one pony," Thorin was beginning to get impatient. "What good will that do?"

"I'll draw them off," Radagast said, reminding them all that he was still there. "It'll buy you time."

Gandalf looked as though he would have liked to argue, but thought better of it. He merely offered Radagast a shrug, as if to say 'good luck.'

-:-

Thorin offered Kíli a nod, and the youngest member of the company fitted an arrow to his bow, before running out and shooting the orc that stood above them twice. It fell down with a scream, but it wasn't enough to kill it. The others had to run out to prevent the orc from getting up again, but the orc wasn't going to die quietly. The last thing it ever did in that world was ensure that all those on that plain knew exactly where the dwarves were.

Thorin pulled the others back, unable to hide the panic that he felt. The entire plain had gone silent, as orcs around them looked towards the rock behind which they were hiding.

Thorin reached behind him and led the one pony that they still had, not having had time to remove the supplies from it before the orcs attacked. He immediately started pulling the reins over the pony's head.

"Follow Gandalf. I'll provide a distraction that will give you time to get away. I'll catch you up later."

Gandalf quickly stepped in front of the pony. "Thorin, you are the leader of this company. Without you, this quest will come to nothing. You can't go!"

"Then what would you have me do?" Thorin hissed. "Sit here and wait while wargs come and tear us apart?"

Gandalf grabbed the reins too. "Let me go," Gandalf said. "I'm the faster rider, and when I get into trouble _I_ can get myself out of it!"

The last remark was a low blow, and Thorin glared at Gandalf, as though he would have liked nothing better than to punch the wizard. "Well, if we're so _bad_ at getting ourselves out of trouble, then perhaps you'd like to supervise us?"

Not one of them noticed the third hand that had crept onto the reins.

Gandalf sighed, before hissing back at Thorin. "If it's a choice between you going and me going, it would be far smarter to let me go, now, _wouldn't it?_ I could catch you up-"

The argument was stopped abruptly as the reins were ripped from both Gandalf's and Thorin's hands, and the horse shot forwards, knocking Gandalf out of the way. Thorin's head spun in the direction of the retreating horse, and he didn't need elvish eyesight to recognise the dark hair, nor did he need to count the company to know who was missing. But it was Fíli who called out the rider's name.

"KÍLI!"

* * *

**A/N: So I wrote this quite late at night when I was bored. It may not be great but I hope the concept's interesting enough. And I know that most of that was taken from the film, but the AU stuff comes in the next chapter (probably.) Anyway, just let me know what you think!**


	2. Part 1 Chapter 2

2

Kíli rode straight out, ignoring the shouts of his older brother. He didn't turn back to see Fíli run after him, only to be dragged back by Thorin. His world consisted of three things – himself, the pony, and the warg pack chasing him.

There was a split second of utter silence, as the twelve remaining dwarves, Gandalf and Bilbo watched the retreating form of Kíli, before the situation seemed to explode as a warg leapt over the rock, over the dwarves and the body of its fallen comrade, completely ignoring them all. The remainder of the company stayed very still as the orc pack ran straight past them, their sights set on Kíli – the fox chased by the hunting party for sport.

Not that the fox particularly minded. Something had woken up inside him when he'd taken the reins, a fire burning in his heart as adrenaline rushed through his body. It had only made sense – apart from Gandalf, he was the fastest rider, (and Thorin had made it very clear that Gandalf would _not_ be the one going,) it was blatantly obvious that an archer had taken down his cohort, and he was quite clearly that archer, so they wouldn't be looking for anyone else. To him, it was all just a game. He would win, he had no doubt about that. He wasn't sure of anything else, just that he would get out of this alive.

But he hadn't accounted for the fact that the orcs were catching up. He may have been the fastest rider of the dwarves, (if not the most skilled at manoeuvring,) but the pony he had had been brought along for carrying supplies, not high-speed chases across difficult terrain. It wasn't long before he caught sight in his peripheral vision of an orc astride a warg, dagger raised.

Kíli yanked on the reins, making the pony stop abruptly. He steered it to the left, as the wargs carried on, not prepared for Kíli's violent manoeuvre. However, while the foremost wargs carried on straight ahead, the sudden drop in speed combined with the change in direction proved very favourable for the rear of the pack, who caught up, swerving neatly behind him.

Meanwhile, Gandalf had jerked the rest of the company out of the trance they had fallen into at Kíli's actions.

"Move!" he hissed, pulling at Thorin's arm.

They skirted around the rocks, trying not to let the wargs enter their vision. The comfort of 'if I can't see you, you can't see me' was the only comfort they had, and their only hope. Kíli may have done something completely stupid and reckless, but nobody could deny that he had helped.

"Where are we going?" Thorin asked Gandalf, as they ran towards a low overhang of rocks, which would offer them some shelter from unfriendly eyes.

Gandalf was debating whether or not to answer when they saw Kíli riding towards them. Kíli hadn't immediately realised they were there, hiding in the shadows, but he suddenly recognised Fíli. He met with his brother's terrified stare, and it took a second to register that he was leading the wargs straight for the others.

He swerved again, this time turning right, away from the rest of the company. He led the wargs in a wide circle, going back the way that he had just come.

But it took him a minute to realise his mistake. The circle he had led the wargs in had not been wide enough. It had given the wargs at the back the chance to cut the corner he had just turned, and this time he didn't have the advantage of a sudden change in direction to throw off the faster wargs.

However, Kíli's change in direction had done some good. None of the orcs had seen the other dwarves, and now they were all facing in the opposite direction, which meant that they could afford more speed and less stealth.

Fíli, however, stared transfixed at his younger brother. He drew his sword, and started running out, but Thorin grabbed him and yanked him back.

"But we've got to help him!" Fíli hissed, disregarding the look of undiluted fury on his leader's face.

"Your brother's been more than stupid enough for the pair of you," Thorin threw Fíli after the others. "I don't need you adding to his mess!"

"But-"

"Kíli chose to do this, you shouldn't have to suffer for his mistakes!" Thorin thought it better to be brutally honest. There was nothing they could realistically do to help Kíli now, and there was no point in wasting lives.

Gandalf, however, had finally found what he was looking for, and hauled open a hidden trapdoor.

"Quickly, get inside!" he called out to the others.

Thorin practically had to throw Fíli down the trapdoor with the help of Dwalin. As soon as Fíli had hit the floor, he took one look at the wall that lay before him that headed towards the trapdoor, and panicked.

"No..." he breathed. "No, no, no, no, NO!" He started frantically scrabbling at the wall, more out of desperation than any actual hope that he could succeed in climbing it. "Kíli... KÍLI!"

"Fíli, calm down," Thorin said, sounding absolutely exhausted.

"How am I supposed to _calm down?_" Fíli asked, his voice half an octave higher than usual. "My brother is out there, being chased by a pack of orcs and I can't do anything!"

"Fíli-" Thorin paused briefly while Fíli kicked the wall in frustration. "Fíli, listen to me. Kíli has a pony, he's a fast rider and a better fighter. He wouldn't get into too much trouble, and even if he did, he'd be more than capable of getting himself out of it." Thorin shot a look at Gandalf, defying him to counter this last statement.

"Quick question," Nori finally said, gesturing down the passageway. "Do we go down here, or not?"

Bofur gave Nori a look that quite clearly expressed his exasperation that the question even needed to be asked. "What do you think?"

-:-

Kíli raced ahead, refusing to accept that the game was up. So they were catching up, and he'd made a mistake, but he wasn't down yet. His pony still had the ability to run, despite the fact that it was tiring.

One of the wargs leapt towards him, but he ducked, and instead of slamming into his chest, the warg sailed over him, missing his back by inches. Kíli drew his sword, and when the warg got up, clearly after a second attempt, Kíli slashed at the warg's head, causing it to snarl and stagger.

Kíli kicked the pony's side, urging it to go faster. The near miss had been too close for comfort, and he was _not_ giving up.

"Come on!" he growled.

The pony sprang forwards, using up the last hidden reserve of its energy, but then something happened that Kíli could not recover from.

The pony tripped over an unseen rock, causing it to stumble at exactly the wrong time. A second warg sprang forward, ploughing into the side of the pony, knocking it down, trapping Kíli's leg under it and pinning them both down.

Kíli raised his sword, slashing at the warg's feet as he struggled to sit up as best he could with a pony lying on one of his legs. The warg yelped, backing off slightly before the orc astride it drew his own sword and slashed across Kíli's face.

"NO!" yelled one of the other orcs.

The orc with the sword drawn looked up at what was evidently its leader.

"Our orders are to bring any captives back _alive!_"

The orc walked over, before pressing the tip of its sword against the base of Kíli's neck. Kíli moved his arm, with every intention of knocking the sword out of the way, but the orc that had slashed his face stamped on his wrist.

"Where are the others?" their leader asked.

Kíli thought it best to play dumb. "What others?"

"Dwarves do not roam these lands on their own, if at all. You were travelling with others, and I want to know where they are!"

Kíli smiled, looking at the blade pressed to his throat before looking back up at the orc. "Gone."

"What?"

"You heard me," Kíli continued to smile, relishing in the small comfort that what he was saying was probably true. "They're gone. You shouldn't have spent so long chasing after me."

"You _liar!_" snarled the orc, pressing the blade harder against his throat. "Where have they gone?"

Kíli shrugged.

"Search the area! They can't have gone that-"

A horn cut off the orc mid-sentence, followed by the sound of hoofbeats.

"Elves!" one of the lookouts called.

Immediately, the orcs began to pull their wargs around, with every intention of fleeing.

"What about him?" one of the orcs asked, pointing at Kíli.

The leader looked down at Kíli, and this time it was its turn to smile. "We take him with us."

* * *

**A/N: Ok, first off... erm... wow. I don't think I've ever had such a good response to a story within the first 24 hours, so thank you, everyone. Really, I mean it. Secondly, for those of you who ask me to keep writing this story, I'd like to say that I'm just getting started. If anybody has read any of my other stories, you'll know that I have a habit of creating long-ish, multiple-chapter plots which occasionally go to places which are not planned. This will be no different. Thirdly, update rates will be... inconsistent, but I will try to get at least one chapter out every couple of days during the Christmas period.**


	3. Part 1 Chapter 3

3

"You led us to the _elves?_" Thorin snarled.

"Thorin, for goodness' sake, you need that map interpreted!" Gandalf snapped, pointing down into the valley where Rivendell was nestled. "Lord Elrond can help us. He is also conveniently on our way so unless you don't mind trekking down to Isengard and asking Saruman to help us, then elves are our only option."

Thorin had no answer to this. He continued to glare up at their guide, before the silence was broken by a hunting horn. Fíli immediately spun around, looking back down the passageway.

"Fíli, if you think that's bad news, then think again," Gandalf explained, losing patience. "That is an elvish hunting horn, and any elf out there will kill or chase off any orcs, leaving your brother without an orc pack on his tail."

"But-"

"But _nothing_. Elves would not harm your brother, nor would they allow orcs to continue chasing him. Kíli will be alright, I promise you that."

"And how will he find us?" Thorin asked, hoping to catch Gandalf out. "He didn't know we were coming here. In fact, this is the last place he would expect us to come."

Thorin's remarks put Fíli even more on edge than before, but fortunately Gandalf had an answer. "That pony is my pony. It knew I had every intention of leading you here, so while this may be the last place _Kíli_ would expect us to come, this would be the _first_ place the pony tries, and if Kíli's smart, he'll let the pony lead him here."

Thorin spluttered indignantly at Gandalf's remark about having every intention of leading them to Rivendell, ignoring Gloin's muttering of: "We are talking about the person who thought that it would be a good idea to take on a pack of orcs with a pony..."

This did not put Fíli's mind at rest.

"And what if he was hurt before they arrived?" Fíli finally lost the last of his self-control. "What then? What if he's out there, right now, injured?"

"Then the elves will find him and bring him to Rivendell, where they will take care of him. Lord Elrond, apart from being good at reading maps, is also an excellent healer. So would you please _stop worrying?_"

Fíli heard something that sounded a lot like 'pessimist' from his right. He was far from happy, or consoled – in fact there were still several questions that he still longed to ask, but Gandalf had started heading down the steep path into Rivendell. He followed, intending to continue the conversation, but when he heard Gandalf lecturing Thorin on tact, he realised that the subject was closed.

* * *

For the first time since he had started on his journey, Kíli was scared.

It had started around the time that his pony had tripped, and had been slowly building up while his wrists were tied, a rough piece of cloth was tied around his face, holding his tongue down against his teeth, and hauled onto the back of a warg, until finally it had reached its peak as he was dragged off the warg several hours later and shoved up a spiral staircase and into the centre of the ruins on Weathertop. Not that pride would let him show it.

He was thrown onto his knees, facing a tall orc who was leaning against one of the walls.

"Mighty Azog," one of his captors said, bowing low, and Kíli felt his blood freeze. Azog was dead. Everyone had told him so, but the orc before him fit the description so perfectly...

"Where are the others?" Azog asked, clearly not impressed by Kíli. If he hadn't been so scared, Kíli might have been offended that Azog did not deem him a worthy prize.

"Gone, according to our friend here," snarled the leader of Azog's minions.

There was a pause, as Azog looked first at his servants, and then at the ground.

"...Gone..." Azog finally said, the one word expressing his displeasure at the news.

In a sudden movement, Azog knelt down before Kíli, yanking out the gag. Kíli shut his eyes, before looking straight into the pale orc's.

"Where have they gone?"

Kíli just glared back.

"I _asked_ you a question!" Azog growled. "ANSWER ME!"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'NO'?" Azog yelled, and Kíli flinched.

"I mean that I'm not going to answer your question," Kíli answered calmly. He wasn't sure what exactly he hoped to achieve by winding all the orcs up by rubbing their mistake in their faces constantly, but he wasn't going to give his friends away.

For a minute, Azog suffered an internal battle between his desire for information and his urge to wipe the annoying smirk off Kíli's face as the dwarf continued to defy him. But when he spoke again, it was with a voice of forced calm.

"You think it wise, following _Thorin Oakenshield_," Azog said softly. "Yes, I know he was with you. But if he has any resemblance to his grandfather, he will be a coward. His grandfather was a coward. He begged for mercy, just before I killed him. He trembled, trying to flee. He stank of fear. Thror, the almighty king under the mountain, was _weak-_"

"DON'T YOU DARE – besmirch my great-grandfather's name with your FILTHY TONGUE!" Kíli screamed, before it suddenly occurred to him what he'd just said.

"Your... _great-grandfather..._"

Kíli's eyes widened as Azog gave him a look very like the one a cat gives a mouse before going for the kill.

"So... your grandfather would be Thrain, am I right?"

Kíli stayed completely still and silent, which Azog took as a confirmation.

"And you would be Thorin's heir?"

"No," Kíli blurted out, before he could stop himself.

"What?" Azog took Kíli's face in his hand and squeezed it – painfully.

"That's my brother," Kíli said, angry at himself for his mistake, and even more so that it took so little to get him to talk.

Azog let go.

"Oh, I see," the great orc said. "And you're second in line for Durin's seat?"

Kíli suddenly spat in Azog's face. "You will not lay a finger on my brother, do you understand me?" he screamed.

Azog straightened up, wiping his face roughly with his hand, before kicking Kíli hard in the chest so he fell backwards.

"I said _DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?_" Kíli repeated, struggling to push himself up off the floor.

"And what would you do to stop me?" Azog asked, finally drawing his sword and pressing it against Kíli's chest. "Kill me? Or kill yourself? In case you haven't noticed, your life is in my hands. You can't do anything to stop me gutting your foolish brother like a pig. You're just a boy, who is out of his depth."

Kíli looked up at Azog, tears springing into his eyes as he thought of Fíli dying because of his mistake. He knew he wouldn't be able to live with that.

"So do we kill him?" asked Azog's second-in-command.

Azog looked down his sword at Kíli, who was struggling in vain to keep his emotions hidden from his captors.

"No," Azog finally said softly, sheathing his sword, whether out of mercy or malice Kíli couldn't tell. "We take him with us. So that the dwarves will come out and play when they really don't want to."

* * *

"Thorin, show Lord Elrond the map," Gandalf said exasperatedly. "...Please."

It was nightfall. The company had just finished dinner, before going to explore the Last Homely House west of the Misty Mountains, save Thorin, Bilbo, Balin and Gandalf, all of whom had met with Elrond in the entrance hall, where Gandalf had spent the best part of the last ten minutes failing to persuade Thorin to ask for – nay, not even that – _accept_ help from the elves. And while Elrond wore an expression that showed he had expected nothing less, and was being very patient, Gandalf was not.

"No."

Gandalf bashed his staff against the floor in frustration, ignoring the somewhat amused expression on Elrond's face as sparks shot out from the base, (leaving no scorch marks to show that they had ever been there,) and threw himself down into the nearest chair.

"For goodness' sake, Thorin, you're acting like a spoilt child!"

"Excuse me?"

"You are standing right next to somebody who could read that map, which, if you've forgotten, neither you or I can read, and you're nesting on it like a mother hen. I'm not even asking you to _ask_ for help, Lord Elrond is _offering_ it to you, but your pride is so strong that you can't even accept!"

"Because it's _my_ map to protect."

"Would you just listen to yourself!?" Gandalf cried out. "Ok, that's it. You want my help over the Misty Mountains, and I will give it to you if you would only let Lord Elrond _read that map!_"

"What?"

"Show him the map, or I leave you to carry on this quest without my help."

Thorin glared at Gandalf, who raised his eyebrows to show that he wasn't bluffing. Thorin let out an indignant huff, before handing over the map to Elrond, who looked as though he was about to burst out laughing. However, the elf-lord soon sobered up when he looked down at the map.

"Moon runes," Elrond whispered.

There was a pause.

"Oh," was all Gandalf said.

"What are moon runes?" Bilbo asked, glancing between the other four people in the room, all of whom ignored him. Elrond started to walk towards the door, still examining the map. Thorin followed him, along with Gandalf and Balin, and Bilbo decided to overlook the fact that he was just a fly on the wall to the others, and followed them out into the courtyard.

"We may be lucky," Elrond was muttering. "With enough luck the moon will be the same shape and season for us to read this... Ah!"

Thin blue lines started to form on the map, which Lord Elrond held out in front of him to show the others. The lines met with each other, forming words that Gandalf could easily read.

"It seems that fate is on your side, Thorin Oakenshield," Elrond said. "'_Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole.'_"

"Well, what does that mean?" Balin asked, annoyed to find that they only solved one riddle to find another.

"It _means_ that you have a time limit on your quest," Elrond said. "It's clear that you got the year right, otherwise you'd never have been able to read this map, but you have to be at this door by Durin's Day."

"Which will be when, exactly?" Thorin asked. "There are so many fluctuations between the timings of Durin's Day, does it say on the map exactly when it will be?"

"No," Elrond said, his eyes scanning the map for anything more. "No, there's nothing else written here."

Thorin cast his eyes up to the sky, frustrated. "Well, that's just _perfect_. We now have a time limit, which we don't know when it's going to expire. We need to go soon-"

He was cut off by the sound of hooves walking into the courtyard. Everyone looked up to see the pony Kíli had stolen walking towards them, before stopping a few feet away from them, looking, if anything, ashamed. Its coat was matted down with dried blood, and there were deep scratches on its flank, which could not account for all the filth in its coat.

Thorin stared at it in shock – it couldn't be... He had told Fíli that it wouldn't end like this... Had he really believed it, or had he just been lying to himself to console himself? He suddenly felt guilty for his earlier treatment of Fíli...

"That's – that's Kíli's pony," Bilbo said. "But – but how did it get like..."

"Lord Elrond, when your soldiers returned, did they see anything else apart from orcs?" Gandalf asked.

"No, they would have told me if they'd seen anything, and they didn't tell me about this pony. Why? Mithrandir, is there somebody else out there?"

"There was one other, Thorin's youngest nephew, who used that pony to draw the orcs away, providing enough of a distraction so that we could come here."

Thorin began to walk towards the pony, as if in a trance. He was hoping, _praying_ that somehow Kíli would be on the back of the horse, that maybe he just hadn't seen him yet, or that there would be some sign, some note tied to the saddle telling him that all evidence before him was contrary to the truth...

* * *

Through the sheer power of alcohol, the other dwarves in the company had managed to calm Fíli down enough so that he could actually enjoy the evening. He was grinning at Bombur as everyone took bets on how many beers he could drink in ten minutes – a bet he had lost long ago to Dwalin who continued to look annoyingly smug.

"And time's... _up!_" Bofur shouted, and Bombur put down the half-empty tankard. Dwalin was grinning as people began to give him small pouches of coins, and made a very good show of rubbing his victory in Dori's face, who had come second.

Just at that moment, Thorin suddenly appeared by Fíli's side, sitting down as Dori cracked his knuckles menacingly, clearly itching to slam a fist into Dwalin's face.

"Fíli, think of a happy memory about your brother. Any happy memory," Thorin said softly, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation.

The first thing that came into his mind was a moment where he'd tried teaching Kíli to ride.

"Tell me about it," was all Thorin said.

"Well... When Kíli had just started to learn to ride a pony, I tried taking him out once, to the mountains. Just to get him used to riding on mountain tracks. Little did I know that he'd been borrowing ponies without permission, and taking them out on the tracks around home. He knew the tracks better than I did, and asked me what was down a side-path that I never knew existed. I led the way, and he just followed me, calmly as anything. I didn't know what was down there, but he knew that the path was just a muddy ridge on either side of a bog. Anyway, my pony was a complete coward, and out jumped this hare in front of her. My pony reared up, and I fell off. As if that wasn't enough, I landed in the bog, which stank of... I don't know what it smelt of," Fíli allowed himself a smile. "Anyway, it turned out that this was all just some elaborate prank that Kíli had pulled, and he just laughed at me for ages afterwards. Still does, as a matter of fact. The bog was relatively shallow, but I was washing the muck out of my hair for about a week afterwards. It was the first thing he actually managed to pull off by himself."

"I think I remember that," Thorin grinned. "Didn't you tell your mother that you'd been attacked and that you managed to scare off the attackers by hitting one over the head with a rock?"

"I was embarrassed. I didn't want the world to know that Kíli had managed to outwit me, especially not since that involved me falling into a bog." Fíli suddenly noticed the flash of sadness that crossed his uncle's face. "Why are you asking me this? Thorin, what's happened?"

Thorin glanced around at the others. "Come with me," he said. "We should go somewhere a little quieter."

Thorin led Fíli into a room nearby where Gandalf sat waiting.

"Fíli, your brother's pony returned," Thorin explained. He opened his mouth to say more, but he couldn't find the words.

Fíli waited for Thorin to continue, but he decided to break the silence in the end.

"So where's Kíli?"

"Fíli, the pony..." Thorin took a deep breath. "It was covered in blood."

"W – What?"

"Kíli's blood."

Fíli's breath caught in his throat. His uncle was lying to him, Thorin _had_ to be lying to him.

"And Kíli?" Fíli's voice felt like it was a mile away.

Thorin shut his eyes, unable to explain. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair on him, and it certainly wasn't fair to his eldest nephew.

"There was no body," Gandalf finally said.

Fíli's head began to spin. He started to feel dizzy, and put his hand against the wall to steady himself.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, _no!_" Fíli forced a laugh, as though he'd just heard some kind of sick joke. "This cannot be happening, this cannot be happening-"

"Fíli-"

"You told me everything would be alright!" Fíli screamed. "You promised me!"

"I know," Gandalf said softly. "I'm sorry, I was wrong-"

"Sorry won't bring him back!" Tears started to fall down his face. He had let his brother down, he had let his baby brother whom he had sworn to protect run off to be chased by orcs and now this had happened. He sank to the floor. "I can't breathe," he gasped.

Thorin knelt down beside him, and put a comforting arm on Fíli's shoulder.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Thorin flinched at Fíli's shout, his arm still outstretched. Gandalf opened the door, intending to go, before motioning to Thorin to follow. After one last look at his nephew, Thorin left and, ignoring the astonished and worried glances of the others, walked away from the company and back down to the courtyard.

Alone inside the room, Fíli buried his head in his hands, and began to cry.

* * *

**A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! I know, I really know how to spread the festive cheer, don't I? And thanks to everyone who reviewed. Seriously, all the reviews are a great Christmas present, so I thought I'd give everyone an extra-long chapter (by my standards) to celebrate!**


	4. Part 1 Chapter 4

4

"Where's Thorin?" Bilbo asked Balin some hours later.

"Searching."

"For what?"

Balin gave Bilbo a look that quite clearly told him to keep his voice down. Most of the others were either asleep or trying to sleep, but after overhearing Fíli shouting at Thorin and Gandalf, nobody had said much.

"Thorin's gone looking for Kíli, or any sign of him. He still has hope that Kíli might be alive, and so he just wants to find him, or some clue as to what's happened to him. At the very least, Thorin's hoping to find a body."

Bilbo remained silent, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Kíli was most likely dead. It was a common reaction amongst those who had not appreciated the dangers of this quest, which was most of the company, save a few – Balin and Dwalin, both of whom had fought alongside Thorin in Moria, Gandalf and Thorin himself. And Thorin was only clinging onto the vague notion that Kíli was still alive out of a mixture of love and guilt. The company was shaken, unable to see this as an exciting adventure anymore.

"It's cruel," Balin sighed. "Not leaving Kíli's body behind, that was so cruel. Whatever Thorin says about them, the elves would have found him if there had been a body to find, but most likely the orcs dragged him off somewhere. And that is the most sickening action in this whole thing. It gives hope. Just a small glimmer, a shard that cuts deeper than any sword ever could. And it'll keep cutting. The longer it's there, the more harm it will do, until it finally destroys him." Balin's eyes flitted to the door behind which they knew Fíli was.

"Is there anything that we can do?" Bilbo asked.

"Unless you can bring back the dead, then I don't think there's anything anyone can do. Time will heal everything as best it can, but there's no escaping the fact that Fíli's lost his brother. There's no body, which will just torment him even more. Thorin's out there doing the only thing anyone can realistically do, and he won't want company."

"Why's that?"

"Because he's trying to appease his guilt."

"His _guilt?_"

"He was the one who put the idea into Kíli's head. He was the one who wouldn't let Fíli help him. He _lied_ to Fíli, and now one of the closest things he's ever had to a son is dead or as good as, and in his eyes, it's his fault."

The pair fell into uncomfortable silence, thinking about the night's events.

"You know him really well, don't you?" Bilbo said, referring to Thorin.

"I've known him a long time," Balin smiled. "Thorin's one of the greatest friends I've ever had, and I can tell a lot about him that he doesn't say. As he can about me. Look, I don't mean to be rude, but it's been a long day and we didn't exactly get that much sleep last night either, so do you mind if I..."

"Oh! Yes, of – of course," Bilbo felt a stab of guilt. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"It's fine. I'll... I'll see you in the morning."

And with that, Balin left, offering Bilbo a small smile as he did so. But it was a long time before Bilbo followed him.

-:-

Thorin trudged back up the stairs, still fighting to keep his emotions in check. He was the company's leader, he would be King of Erebor if he could just get there, it would be no good for anyone to see him as weak. He stepped over the still forms of those in the company who had tried and failed to stay up to either welcome him back or comfort Fíli if he ever emerged, and picked up his bag –

"Did you find him?"

Thorin started, spinning around to see Bilbo still up, sitting in the corner. Once he'd controlled his breathing again, he answered.

"No, there was no sign of him. The orcs probably carried him off."

Bilbo's eyes saddened.

"I'm sorry."

"Bilbo, there was nothing you could have done. There was nothing anyone could have done to help him. I just wish that there was something I could have done to _stop_ him."

Bilbo watched as Thorin fell into a regretful silence, before something occurred to him.

"Why did you do that?" Bilbo finally asked.

"What?"

"Make Fíli remember that thing about Kíli. Why did you do that? Whenever Fíli remembers that, he'll always link it to the day his brother died."

"It's the other way around," Thorin breathed.

Bilbo gave Thorin a confused look.

"Whenever I think about my grandfather," Thorin explained, "the first thing I see is Azog holding his head up like a trophy, before throwing it towards my father. When I see Erebor, I see Smaug attempting to torch it as he butchered my people. And now, when I think about Kíli, all I can see is that _pony – _" Thorin took a moment to compose himself. "I have to get past the freshest memories of loss before I can remember the happy times. I just didn't want that to happen to Fíli."

They lapsed once more into silence, before Bilbo finally spoke again.

"Do you think there's any chance that he's still alive?"

Thorin sighed, not looking into Bilbo's eyes.

"I hope not," he said. "Because if he is, then it means that they know _who_ he is. And they'd hurt him all the more for it. Do you know what time it is, by the way?"

"Oh, it's – it's almost morning," Bilbo said, alarmed by the sudden change in subject. "You were gone for a long time."

Thorin glanced at the sky, where the moon was waning. "I should have guessed. It's always darkest just before the dawn."

* * *

**A/N: So something of a character development chapter, and apologies for the ridiculously clichéd ending. I couldn't resist. Thank you everyone who reviewed and thank you for all the Christmas wishes, I've said it before and I'll say it again: it really does mean a lot!**


	5. Part 1 Chapter 5

5

"Fíli, come on. I know you're still in there. Open the door, Thorin wants to talk to you."

Fíli jolted awake, his whole body aching as he stretched out of the uncomfortable position he'd fallen asleep in, blinking as his eyes became accustomed to the sunlight. His throat hurt and his eyes still stung, but that didn't even compare to the jolt in his stomach that he felt when he remembered why he had fallen asleep in that room as opposed to the bedroom that Elrond had laid out for him.

"Fíli!" Ori bashed on the door a couple of times. "Locking yourself in that room and sulking isn't going to help anything. Kíli wouldn't want that."

"What do you know about what he would have wanted?" Fíli snapped. "_Nothing!_"

There was a pause. "I'm sorry that we lost him too. Really, I am. But we're going soon, and Thorin wants to talk to you before we do."

"I don't want to see him yet. An hour or two won't make much of a difference."

There was another pause, this time filled with muttering. "Gandalf says it will," Ori said.

The name suddenly sparked a flame of fury inside Fíli. "Oh, is Gandalf out there?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

More muttering. "Yes."

Fíli gritted his teeth as he unlocked the door. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I've got a few words to say to Gandalf – "

The door swung open, and there stood Ori with not Gandalf, but Thorin.

"Oh, for goodness' sake-"

Fíli made to shut the door, but Thorin held it open. After a second of struggling, Fíli finally conceded defeat and grudgingly allowed Thorin in, giving Ori a furious glance as he shut the door.

"Don't be angry with him, it was my idea," Thorin said firmly, with all the authority of his bloodline. "I knew that you wouldn't want to talk to me, so I asked him to coax you out."

"Am I not allowed even a moment of peace?" Fíli asked.

"Not if it's going to delay our departure. Look, Fíli, I'm really sorry, but I couldn't find any sign of Kíli last night."

"So what does that mean?" Fíli asked, not looking up.

"I don't know," Thorin ran his hand through his hair. "Fíli, I wouldn't... I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to turn back. Nobody could accuse you of cowardice if you did."

Fíli looked up, some of his grief transforming into anger. "No!" he snapped incredulously. "No! Thorin, Kíli would not want me going home, not because of him! Besides, if I go home now, I'd never get a chance to catch the _scum_ who killed him! I'd never – " his voice broke, and he leant back against the wall.

"Never what?" Thorin asked, worried that he knew what Fíli was going to say next. "Say it."

"I'd never get a chance to get revenge!" Fíli snarled. "I want to catch them, and I want to hurt them, like they hurt Kíli! I want to rip them apart with my bare hands like they ripped us apart and watch them bleed in front of me, like I am now! I want them to feel the pain that I'm feeling, the pain that they caused!"

Fíli stood there, taking deep breaths as he recovered from his outburst, while Thorin sighed. He'd been afraid of this.

"Fíli, you can't go on a quest for revenge," he explained calmly. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't take the chance if it comes your way – I'm angry too, I want them to suffer – but you shouldn't go chasing that chance. Because if you go looking for revenge, then that will take over every other aspect of your life, destroying everything else so that you _have_ nothing else. And when you finally _get_ revenge, when it's over, and you can't do anything more, then you're left with... nothing. Just a big empty hole with nothing else to fill it."

"But this whole thing," Fíli snapped, gesturing to the door where the rest of the company were waiting. "This whole journey was about getting revenge on Smaug for taking over Erebor! And yet you lecture _me_ about not seeking justice?"

"Exactly," Thorin said. "Since Smaug took over Erebor, my whole life has been about reclaiming my homeland, of getting _my_ revenge on Smaug. It's become an obsession. And when I finally get back there, and sit in my throne, what will I have? A mountain of gold that drove my family insane and brought a dragon to kill my people, and the weight of those I lost trying to get it back. But revenge will not bring your brother back in the same way that it will bring gold back."

"Well, let me go for Kíli then," Fíli all but begged. "We spent months planning our adventures, we were so excited about it. And he would not want me to turn back at the first chance that I got."

Thorin smiled. He'd been hoping his nephew would say that.

* * *

"Do you know something that's amusing, dwarf?" Azog asked, looking down at Kíli with a smile on his face.

Kíli thought about giving Azog a sarcastic answer involving the orc's impending death at the hands of either himself, his brother or his uncle, but a combination of common sense and the gag in his mouth prevented him from doing so.

"How easy it is to predict your companions' movements," Azog continued. "Well, your former companions are so stupid that of course they'd take the quickest route, regardless of the potential dangers."

Kíli whispered various obscenities through his gag, not designed for Azog to hear.

"Although, one thing I didn't expect Thorin to do was to form an alliance with the elves," Azog mused.

_What?_

"I was surprised. Rumour had it that Thorin hated the whole race, the last thing I expected him to do was to go begging them for help."

Kíli growled something through his gag.

"I'm sorry, dwarf, what was that?" Azog laughed, pulling the gag down.

"He doesn't beg," Kíli repeated, giving Azog a look of complete and utter loathing.

"Doesn't he?" Azog glanced at the campfire that illuminated the cave they were spending the day in, waiting for night to fall so they could continue the journey. "So he's not like his grandfather, then? Or the rest of his line?"

"The rest of his line don't beg, either!" Kíli snarled, his voice becoming almost animalistic with rage. "It's only you, and your cowardly minions who would do that. My grandfather once told me that he once had you pleading for your life, and he made the mistake of giving you mercy. That was his one mistake. He was too good-"

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Azog, his eyes flashing with rage, springing to his feet so that he towered above Kíli. "So the members of Durin's line don't beg, do they? Well, that sounds a lot like a challenge!"

Azog drew a knife and cut Kíli's bonds, gesturing for the help of one of his minions. They dragged him forwards, so that he was right in front of the fire. The other orc held him in a kneeling position, pinning one hand behind his back, while Azog pulled Kíli's other arm out in front of him, rolling up his sleeve so that it showed his bare forearm.

"Let's see how much pain it takes for you to plead for my mercy!" Azog thrust Kíli's arm into the hottest part of the fire, near the base.

The pain was excruciating. The heat felt like it was melting the skin off his bones, as huge blisters bubbled up. Kíli began to hyperventilate as the pain level rose in his hands. Suddenly, several of the blisters popped open at once, and Kíli couldn't hold back the cry of pain that ripped itself from his lips. His screams resounded around the cave, echoing off the walls. He clamped his eyes shut, and fought to keep tears from streaming down his face, but didn't quite manage it. He opened his eyes, and wished he hadn't. Through the flames he could see the raw flesh on his arms seeping blood, as the blisters continued to pop and the skin shrivelled up, burning. His hand was slowly getting coated in soot, and the broken edges of his skin were starting to blacken as they began to carbonise...

It was too much for him to bear.

"Stop it," he gasped.

"Beg for it," Azog replied, grinning, as he held Kíli's forearm in place.

Would his pride allow it?

"Please," he breathed, so quietly he could barely hear himself. But he knew Azog had heard it.

Yet Azog stared at Kíli's hand in the fire, like a curious child who wondered what would happen if he continued.

"PLEASE, STOP IT!" Kíli screamed, as the pain in his hand reached its peak.

Azog waited for another second, before he threw Kíli backwards so that the young dwarf lay sprawled on the ground. Kíli cradled his burnt arm, sobbing, his pride forgotten.

"How to hurt an archer most," Azog laughed, as he strode to where Kíli lay, grinning as Kíli scrambled towards the wall of the cave at his approach. "Go for his arm." Azog crouched down beside Kíli, and grasped the hand that he'd just burnt, causing Kíli to screw his eyes up in pain. "You see, boy, everyone will beg for something. It's simply a matter of finding out what they will beg for."

Azog released his hand and walked over to the mouth of the cave, where the last rays of sun were disappearing behind the clouds.

"Your friends will have been on the move today," Azog mused. "I think we should catch them up."

Azog's second-in-command hauled Kíli up, and began to tie his wrists to the saddle of a warg.

"YOU MONSTER!" Kíli screamed, as the ropes cut into his ruined wrist, as it hit him what Azog had done to him. "YOU SICK, TWISTED _MONSTER!_"

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the slightly graphic description of Azog's brutality. I think that's about as gruesome as this story is likely to go. As always, thanks for the reviews that keep flooding in. I've never actually written a story that was this popular before, so thank you all! **


	6. Part 1 Chapter 6

6

"Thorin, you cannot be serious about us trying to attempt this pass at night," Dori moaned, pulling the pony carrying their supplies roughly over a rock. It was nightfall, and after walking all day they stood at the base of the Misty Mountains, before a narrow path that led to the pass they planned on taking. Not that any of the company were happy about it. Since the arrival of the other pony covered in Kíli's blood, the company had gone into a knee-jerk reaction, taking the safest option when there was one.

"We don't have anywhere in which we can shelter," Thorin repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, when realistically it was more like the sixth or seventh. "We keep going until we find somewhere safe."

"But there's a storm over there, there's one brewing over here, and if they meet on the pass then we'll be caught in a battle of nature's making, which can only end in one way," Glóin snapped. "They won't ever find our bodies."

"And if we stay here, there probably won't _be_ any bodies to find," Thorin struggled to keep a rein on his impatience.

"Thorin, I know you're impatient," Balin reasoned, "but trying to take this path at night, it's... well, it's suicide. We should wait until morning."

"Balin's right," Gandalf said. "If we tackle the pass now, then it would do more harm than good. You can carry on if you like, this is your adventure after all and not mine, but I plan on waiting until morning."

"And that's why he died," Fíli murmured. He hadn't said a word since they had left Rivendell. He spoke so quietly that they barely heard him, but they instantly fell silent. "Because we waited. We waited around until the orcs attacked us. And look what happened then."

"It wasn't because we waited," Gandalf said. "It was due to a lapse in judgement, combined with bad luck."

It took a moment for Fíli to unravel what Gandalf was implying. "Wait, are you saying that it was his fault?"

The honest answer to that was 'yes,' but Gandalf remained silent, which Fíli took as a confirmation.

"Wow, Gandalf," Fíli said softly as he glared at the wizard. "I never thought you'd be one to speak ill of the dead."

"I'm not speaking ill of your brother – "

"Only saying that he deserved everything he got? He had his whole life ahead of him, you insensitive senile old – "

"Fíli!" Thorin barked.

Fíli fell silent, giving Gandalf one last scathing look before turning away.

"Gandalf, is there anywhere around here that would provide good shelter and enough safety that we could spend the night?" Thorin asked.

"Nowhere that I know of," Gandalf replied, turning away from Fíli. There was something in his eyes, veiled, something like regret...

Or guilt...

"That settles it," Thorin said decisively. "We go up into the mountains and find a cave of some shape or form and spend the night there."

Most of them would have liked to argue, but there was too much logic in Thorin's decision to ignore. Besides, the look on Thorin's face deterred most people from saying another word, and they bleakly followed him up the steep path into the Misty Mountains.

* * *

"Open this door!" Azog bellowed some hours later, as he thumped on a huge chunk of rock attached to the mountain, a little to the south of the path that the rest of the company had just taken. "I know you're in there!"

Kíli hoped against hope that Azog had perhaps got the wrong door, or that the people wouldn't answer.

"Come on, you lazy maggots!" Azog's second-in-command bashed against the rock with its mace. "It's all very well, hiding in your comfortable little cave while we go out and do all the work, but let us in, why don't you? It's raining!"

There was a huge crack, and a rough outline of a deformed arch appeared as a slab swung outwards, and a goblin stuck its head out.

"'_Little cave'?_" the goblin repeated incredulously, staring at Azog's second-in-command as though he'd just insulted him in the most grievous way imaginable. "This mountain is a _palace!_ I don't care who you are, this mountain is finer than Moria! And watch your tongue! The Great Goblin is king of this place, not you, and he wouldn't hesitate to stick a sword in your gut!"

"You've clearly never been to Moria, then," Azog snapped, pushing past the goblin doorman. "If you think this hovel even compares to my rightful home, you are mistaken."

"It's not your rightful home!" Kíli burst out.

Azog smacked his head sideways so that Kíli slammed into a wall, cutting his face on the jagged rock. "You never learn to hold your tongue, do you? Anyway, as I was saying," Azog turned back to the door-goblin. "This 'palace' doesn't even compare on the same scale as Moria. And the Great Goblin wouldn't stick a sword in my gut, he wants the prize I offer him too much."

"Which is?"

"Gold beyond his wildest dreams," Azog explained shortly, moving his soldiers aside so that the wargs could get in. "Which in his case is probably about twenty small coins," he added as an afterthought.

The door-goblin, angered by this slant on its king, punched Azog in the arm. "You will _not_ insult the Great Goblin!"

Azog looked down, shocked, at where the goblin had just punched him. He looked up, an expression of unparalleled rage on his face. "What did you just do?"

The goblin quailed under Azog's furious stare. "You... will not... insult my king..."

Azog glared for a minute longer, before breaking into a terrifyingly evil smile. "That was a very bad move."

Azog reached out, lifted the goblin up into the air and pinned him against the wall by the neck. He then squeezed tightly. The goblin gasped for air, its eyes bulging as Azog squeezed tighter...

There was suddenly a loud crack, as the bones in the goblin's neck suddenly snapped, and Azog dropped the dead goblin on the floor next to where Kíli was huddled. The young dwarf winced – he had a deep-set prejudice against goblins, but seeing Azog crush the life out of one like that had shaken him, and he shut his eyes, unable to get the look of intense fear plastered on the goblin's corpse out of his mind. He felt ashamed of himself, but he fought to blink back tears at the latest victim of Azog's cruelty.

Azog hauled him to his feet, before shoving him down the passageway. "Fortunately, I know my way around. We don't need that to guide us. Come on!"

The orcs fell into step behind Azog. As an afterthought, one of the orcs shut the door behind them, but nobody bothered to check to see if it was locked.

* * *

"Thorin, I thought you said we'd find shelter in the mountains before attempting the pass!" Bombur shouted over the raging storm. The wind was battering them constantly into the side of the mountain, but it seemed to be coming from all directions, not just the south. The path was covered in a mixture of snow and ice from the blizzard, and the few and far-between patches which were just rock were slippery and wet from the rain that seemed to be falling with it. Lightning occasionally lit up the mountain, but the rest of the time Thorin could barely see further than two feet in front of him due to a combination of the dark and the precipitation that obscured his vision. He was using the brief flashes of light like flares so that he could plan his route, and using the mountain wall to guide him along it.

"This is getting ridiculous!" Nori cried out, unable to make out anything in front of him. "Thorin, we _have_ to find shelter!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Thorin shot back. Feeling his way along the mountain wall, he took one step –

A flash of lightning lit up the path in front of him – only there was no path. He lost his balance as he threw himself backwards to counter the forward momentum, and crashed into Dwalin. The pair stumbled back, until Dwalin's foot slipped on the edge and he slid off the path, and would have fallen down the side of the mountain had Balin not pulled Thorin out of the way and grasped the hand of his brother.

"Push yourself up!" Balin shouted. "Put your feet on the rock and push yourself up!"

Dwalin struggled to get a foot hold, not finding any rock to put his feet on.

"There's nothing there!" he shouted back, panic beginning to rise in his chest.

Then it occurred to him what he's just said.

He glanced down, and saw that he hadn't been mistaken. There was indeed no rock there. There was a ledge a short way down, about five feet down, below a gaping hole that reached up to his stomach.

_Shelter._

"Hold on!" Dwalin said, grasping the surface of the rock, before letting go of Balin's hand and swinging on the top of the hole, before dropping neatly into the centre of what looked like quite a small and (in comparison to the pass above it) positively comfortable cave.

"Dwalin? Dwalin!" Balin shouted.

"I'm fine!" he called back. "But I think I've found something. Some form of cave."

"How far back does it go?" Gandalf asked.

"Not far," Dwalin said. "I'm touching the back wall, and there aren't any passages leading away."

"Is it dry?" Bilbo asked.

Dwalin chuckled. "Yes, Master Baggins, the cave is dry. Not particularly warm, but certainly more sheltered than the pass up there."

"Right, well then, what are we waiting for?" Gloin clapped his hands together, before swinging down off the pass and, in a move very like Dwalin's, landed in the cave.

"Wait!" Thorin shouted. "I'm not sure it's safe!"

"Oh, come on, Thorin!" Bombur grinned. "It's small, dry, and more sheltered than up here. It's not exactly easy to find – Dwalin had to fall off the mountain to find it. What more do you want?"

Reassured by Bombur's words, many of the others followed Gloin down into the cave. Bilbo, hardly the most agile of hobbits, and certainly not as agile as the dwarves, hung back with Thorin, Gandalf, Fíli and Balin. Balin gave Thorin a questioning look, as though looking for approval to proceed. Thorin nodded, and Balin swung down. Without a word, Fíli grasped Bilbo around the chest and, ignoring the protests of the youngest hobbit, swung down into the cave, launching Bilbo into Balin's arms, before straightening up and offering Bilbo a hand.

Thorin and Gandalf were the last to swing into the cave, landing in a somewhat more dignified manner than Bilbo had. Bilbo was still struggling to extract himself from Balin, and, trying to recover as much of his pride as he could, ignored the laughing dwarves as he took Fíli's hand. Gandalf walked towards the back of the cave, rubbing his hands along the length of the wall, as though trying to find something. Something didn't feel right about the cave, but he couldn't put his finger on it...

* * *

"Mighty Azog!"

Azog and his guard turned around to face one of the most repulsive creatures Kíli had ever seen. A huge goblin, fat on what Kíli could only guess at, was striding towards them, its arms outstretched in welcome. Kíli didn't want to think about whose bones made up the crown atop its head.

"Welcome to my humble abode," the goblin said, gesturing around him. "You are in, ah... the basement, as it were, but if you would come up...?"

Kíli glanced up towards the roof of the cavern – which seemed to stretch as high as the mountain, with various wooden bridges connecting caves to each other. A huge roughly hewn stone pillar rose about halfway up the cavern, before flattening to form a platform where sat (though Kíli couldn't see it) a throne.

"To what do I owe this visit?" the Great Goblin asked.

"You are likely to have visitors other than me in the not-too-distant future. Companions of my young friend here," Azog gestured to Kíli.

"And these guests would be of interest to you?"

"Well, naturally. I would so like for my friend to be reunited with his family..."

There was a pause, as the Great Goblin looked at Azog as though the latter had recently suffered a blow to the head.

"Well," Azog continued. "At least before I rip all their heads off."

The Great Goblin burst out laughing, soon to be joined by Azog and his guard, the sickening sound echoing around the cavern like some grotesque symphony.

"And who _is_ your friend?" the Great Goblin asked.

"Why, this... this is none other than the second-in-line to the throne of Thorin Oakenshield."

Comprehension dawned on the Great Goblin's face.

"Oh."

Azog smiled.

"I take it that he is one of the guests who will be arriving?"

"Indeed," Azog replied.

"Azog, are you sure that this is wise?" Something akin to panic appeared in the Great Goblin's eyes. "The last time you met with Oakenshield, well..." the goblin glanced at the claw thrust into Azog's arm as a substitute for his hand.

"Which is why I want to kill him. I want revenge."

"So you would like us to do your dirty work?"

Some of the forced pleasantness had gone from the Great Goblin's voice. He was now looking at Azog with something cold in his gaze.

"And what's in it for me?"

"Gold," Azog said simply. "Your weight in gold. If you give me Thorin Oakenshield alive, I will pay you your weight in gold. And there's something else."

The Great Goblin's eyes lit up with greed.

"Our friend here," Azog pointed to Kíli, "has an older brother. Identify him, and give him to me, and I will double your payment. He will be with the company, the dwarf got very protective about him, so give him to me. Think of that. Twice your weight in gold..."

The Great Goblin hesitated. He feared Thorin Oakenshield – the King under the Mountain's reputation had been earned a thousand times over, but, like many creatures, he found it very difficult to turn down a massive pile of gold.

His greed won out. "Very well."

"One more thing," Azog added, with the air of a merchant pleased with a day's good business. "Is there anywhere safe I can keep my friend?"

The Great Goblin smiled. "Follow me."

* * *

_There was an echoing crash as the mace smashed into Kíli's chest. He could hear the crunch as several of his ribs broke. Tears sprung into Kíli's eyes as blood began to seep from various open wounds. An unknown enemy towered over him, drawing a sword and pressed it painfully against his chest. He could see various other cuts through the ripped shirt. Kíli's arm was hanging at an odd angle, and his foot should not have been pointing that way. As the enemy approached him, he saw Kíli scramble back, tears in his eyes as he knew that his doom was coming – he had to do something, anything, to protect Kíli. He lunged forward, but it was too late. The enemy plunged the sword deep into Kíli's chest. Their eyes met for a second, as the light in Kíli's eyes extinguished and he fell backwards onto a huge pile of blood-stained gold –_

"Kíli!"

Fíli sat bolt-upright, gasping as it occurred to him that it was only a dream.

_But it could have happened._

"Are you alright?" Bilbo asked. He was on watch.

Fíli nodded, shaking. "It's... It's fine. Just a bad dream..."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Fíli gave no sign that he'd heard.

"Or about anything, really."

Fíli nodded, before shaking his head. He really wasn't sure _what_ he wanted to do. He didn't want to go back to sleep, he was too scared of facing his dreams. Part of him wanted to talk, and part of him wanted to hide away in a corner and be left alone with his thoughts.

"...Anything at all," Bilbo persisted.

Fíli looked up, staring straight at Bilbo. The piercing look unnerved the hobbit, and he shifted slightly to one side. But Fíli had heard something. Something that didn't bode well.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear what?"

"That noise. Like a crack."

Bilbo fell silent, listening, but he couldn't hear anything apart from the storm outside.

"No, there's nothing... Fíli?"

Fíli had just stood up, and walked towards one of the darker corners at the back of the cave.

"It came from over here..." he muttered, running his hand along the back of the wall, his fingers tracing along the same line as Gandalf's had earlier that night.

Bilbo peered over to where Fíli stood. Something seemed different about it...

That crack near the base had not been there earlier.

"FÍLI, LOOK OUT!"

There was an echoing crash that echoed around the small cave, though the company in there were already awake. Bilbo watched in horror as Fíli was dragged into the crack, and out jumped –

Goblins.

Gandalf leapt to his feet as the goblins seized those in the company who had been sleeping nearest the crack were thrown in after Fíli. But as they grabbed Bilbo, who was furthest from the crack but had nowhere to run, a white light flashed around the cave, and several goblins fell dead. But one of the surviving goblins rushed over, and pushed Gandalf, so that he fell backwards out of the cave. The last thing Bilbo saw was Gandalf hauling himself back up onto the ledge between the legs of goblins, looking panicked as the crack shut, leaving nothing but darkness.

* * *

**A/N: So this is the result of me stuck in a car for over six hours as we drove up to Scotland with no internet. As always, thank you for so much for all the reviews, and three guesses what the next chapter will be!**


	7. Part 1 Chapter 7

7

Bilbo woke after goodness knew how long. His head was pounding, his body was aching, and it looked as though he wasn't the only one in pain.

"I feel..." Bofur grumbled quietly, "like I've been caught between a hammer and an anvil."

"Ooh, my head," Dori groaned.

"I fear that we've only just started our undoubtedly long and arduous suffering," Balin said bleakly.

"What a right little optimist you are," Oin said.

"Look at where we are," Balin snapped. And for the first time they actually took in their surroundings.

They were lying in something that resembled most closely a giant sieve. It was the lower half of a cage, held some way off the ground, and the bars seemed to be protruding from a rock that prevented them from getting out. But that wasn't the worst of their predicament.

"We... are surrounded... by goblins..." Bilbo panted hysterically. "We... are surrounded... by _goblins!_"

"Calm down, Bilbo," Thorin snapped. "Panicking like that will not help anything."

"Oh, good!" boomed a voice that silenced the harsh screaming. "You're finally awake!"

The company fell silent, turning towards the voice. A giant goblin walked towards them from a podium, the goblins surrounding them parting as the Great Goblin approached.

"You were asleep for so _long!_" the Great Goblin said, his voice carrying throughout the mountain. "My associate got really quite bored."

There was an outbreak of cackling, before the Great Goblin silenced them with a gesture like a conductor.

"I do believe that some of you are quite familiar with my associate," the Great Goblin said. "A pale orc, who rides a white warg."

Thorin tensed.

"Now, where is Thorin Oakenshield?"

Thorin stayed very still, praying that the goblin didn't recognise him.

"WHERE IS THORIN OAKENSHIELD!?" The Great Goblin rattled the cage, before his eyes met with Thorin's.

Thorin gave the goblin a glare that clearly expressed his hatred for the entire race.

"Oh, so it's _you!_" the Great Goblin leered. "How, ah, _nice_ to finally see you in the flesh. Thorin Oakenshield, the mighty King under the Mountain!"

"You are _very_ familiar with my associate, are you not?"

"Azog the Defiler died many years ago," Thorin hissed.

The Great Goblin threw back his head and laughed. "You think his reign of terror is over? Hardly! You might want to watch your tongue, though. After all, he has your son."

Thorin's fear turned to confusion. "What?"

"You _do_ look very like him," the Great Goblin was saying. "Similar eyes."

"I don't have a son!" Thorin hissed.

The Great Goblin's eyes widened in shock. "You would deny the existence of your son?"

"I _said_ I don't have a son!" Thorin repeated, rushing towards the edge of the cage.

The Great Goblin laughed again, and this time he was joined by the surrounding goblins. "You hear that? Thorin Oakenshield is so proud that he would condemn his own _son_ to death!"

"_I don't have a son!_" Thorin screamed over the laughter. "I don't know who it is that you have, but he's lied about his heritage if that's what he's told you!"

"Oh, really?" the Great Goblin reached through the bars, grabbing Thorin by the neck. "Well, since you're so _sure_, would you like to meet my associate and explain things to him?"

The Great Goblin threw Thorin back towards the other end of the cage, where he ploughed into Dori.

"Who are they talking about?" Dori whispered.

Thorin shrugged. None of this made the slightest bit of sense. Azog was reportedly back from the dead, somehow the goblins had the idea that they had a son that he didn't have as their prisoner, and a combination of severe dehydration and lack of food was clouding his brain, making him wonder exactly how long they had been unconscious for. They had all assumed by now that Kíli was dead, and in their partially delirious state, they had not made the connection between the missing member of their company and the fictional relative that the goblins were holding prisoner.

"Send word to the pale orc," the Great Goblin ordered. "Tell him... we have his prize."

Meanwhile, it had just occurred to Fíli that the goblins hadn't searched the dwarves for their weapons. They had taken the weapons they could see, but hadn't bothered searching for ones that they couldn't. He comforted himself by feeling the dagger tucked under his shirt that he'd been given many years ago by Thorin, a relic of Erebor. He had a feeling that it would undoubtedly become useful. Particularly when his eyes fell on the trapdoor at the base of the cage.

"Now, Thorin," the Great Goblin was saying. "You don't mind if I call you Thorin, do you? Or are you one of those overly arrogant kings who insists on the full title?"

Thorin remained silent, which the goblin took as confirmation.

"Now, while we're waiting, do you mind... explaining something to me? Why is it that a dwarf, such as yourself, carries a blade of elvish make?" The Great Goblin bent down to retrieve Orcrist from the pile of weapons in front of his throne. "Why did you think that it was a good idea to bring a weapon used in the cruel annihilation of my race into my kingdom?"

"We didn't mean to come here," Thorin snarled. "As I recall, it was your minions who dragged us in here. We would have very happily passed you by."

"And where were you going that required you to pass through our land?"

Thorin hesitated. "We were visiting relatives."

"You were... visiting relatives?" the Great Goblin said sceptically. "Fully armed with a sword from a goblin war? Is it some obscure custom that dwarves butcher their cousins when they arrive, or have you had some row with them? Or... and I think this is perhaps the most likely, were you lying to me?"

"We took weapons to protect ourselves on the road!" Thorin hissed.

"Did you, now? And if you seem so concerned about the welfare of your _relatives _that you would cross wild roads fully armed, then why are you so ready to abandon your son to his fate?"

"I've told you before, I don't have a son!"

The Great Goblin smiled, turning away. "I knew that you were a liar-"

Suddenly, a bright light flared up around the cavern, blinding them all, followed by a strong gust of wind that blew them all backwards.

Thorin staggered sideways, bowled over by the force of the mysterious light. He had a fairly good idea what – or more rather, who – had caused it, and sure enough, when the light had faded, he saw Gandalf standing in the centre of the podium, Glamdring held to the throat of the Great Goblin.

* * *

Azog had made a great show of exercising his power over the goblins from the Misty Mountains. Indeed, a combination of his brutality and his pre-existing reputation meant that it had reached a point where most of the goblins were afraid to approach the pale orc and his minions. Which is why there was a slight delay between the issuing of the message of the Great Goblin and its deliverance which could not wholly be attributed to the time taken for the goblin to find Azog.

Azog had spent the best part of the last ten minutes giving Kíli graphic descriptions of what he intended to do to Thorin and Fíli. However, Kíli, whose hopes of escape had been shrinking with every passing day in the prison cell, had slowly been giving up, growing weaker as he was deprived of food and water, and subsequently he had been retreating further into his thoughts. At some point, Kíli had decided that he no longer cared what Azog did to him, and he believed that Azog could not touch the rest of the company. So he became more and more distant, barely noticing Azog's words, and at the lack of a reaction, Azog finally gave up out of boredom.

"Can I ask a question?" Kíli said, not looking up at his captor, his voice sounding foreign out of lack of use.

Azog glanced up, not entirely surprised, but sensing an opportunity for some twisted amusement if Kíli was actually reacting to his presence.

"You said that you would pay the goblin twice his weight in gold," Kíli continued. "How were you going to do that?"

Azog had in fact been waiting for Kíli to ask this, purely for the sick pleasure it gave him to torment his captive. It was one of the reasons why he had brought Kíli along to the negotiations over price, asking about Kíli's 'accommodation' afterwards so that Kíli could hear it.

"You think I don't have gold?"

"I think that you don't have _enough_ gold to pay the goblin twice his weight in that. So where is the gold coming from?"

Azog grinned at Kíli, his eyes alight with malice.

"You see, dwarf, I don't just want to destroy your line," he said softly, his voice full of some form of sick greed. "I want to _disgrace_ it. I want to disgrace Durin's very _name_. And to do that, I am going to... well, I'm going to take Erebor."

Kíli suddenly froze, tense. He couldn't know, he couldn't _possibly_ know about their quest... He hadn't mentioned it, Thorin had made it very clear that nobody should tell anyone about it, but it _couldn't _be a coincidence...

"Think about it," Azog was saying, as he crouched down to Kíli's level. "Moria will become an outpost of my empire, and I sit in my capital, surrounded by your great-grandfather's horde. The greatest dwarven kingdom... will be mine!"

Azog started to laugh softly at the twisted form of revenge, a deranged sound, and something in this sparked up a rage and hatred in Kíli that he had never known.

"Erebor will _never_ be yours!" Kíli snarled, reaching through the bars and grabbing hold of Azog's neck. Little did Azog know that while Kíli's strength in his body had been waning, the strength in Kíli's mind had been growing. In the world of his mind, Azog could not touch him.

Azog looked down at Kíli's outstretched arm with an expression of amusement on his face.

"I'm surprised by you," Azog said softly. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be brave enough to try that, particularly after you saw what happened to the last person who touched me. And I wouldn't have thought you'd want to risk your other arm."

Azog took hold of Kíli's wrist, and pulled it away from his throat. He started applying pressure to his wrist, pressing his thumb against the vein and blocking it. Kíli's arm immediately started aching, and as time went on it started to go blue –

A loud bang echoed through the tunnel. Azog dropped Kíli's wrist, and the blood rushed back up his arm. He knew that it was positively mild for Azog, designed to scare rather than cause any lasting damage, but that didn't stop it hurting. A second later, a goblin came running down the empty corridor towards them, slowing down as he approached, fear clearly in his eyes.

"_What..._" Azog demanded, "was that noise?"

The goblin looked absolutely terrified by the fact that he had no explanation for that. "It... it sounded like an explosion..." the goblin suggested.

"Yes, I know what it sounds like," Azog snapped impatiently. "If I wanted an idiot to explain something that I could already figure out, I would have asked for one. What I wanted was an explanation as to what _caused_ it."

"I... I... I don't know..."

"You don't know?" Azog stood up, towering over the goblin. "Why is it that around here I am completely surrounded by incompetent – "

"Oh, for goodness' sake, leave it alone!" Kíli burst out, anger coursing through his body. During his imprisonment, something inside him had been stretched to breaking point, and just now it had snapped. "It's clearly here for something else other than to tell you about something that happened a minute ago!"

For the first time since Kíli had met him, Azog looked genuinely shocked. He turned towards Kíli. "You do realise that I would kill you for talking to me like that if you weren't so useful?"

"I don't care," Kíli hissed. "You think that _anything_ could compare to what you've already done? You took me away from my brother! He probably thinks I'm dead! Nothing matters to me anymore! So go on, why not make that misconception a reality?"

Azog looked at Kíli, undisguised anger colouring his features. He looked sorely tempted, before breaking into a shrewd smile.

"You do not understand what your significance is, do you? You think I'd let Thorin Oakenshield off with just his life gone? No, this is _my_ revenge. I want to torment him, make him realise just how weak emotions make him. I want him to suffer for the insult he gave me. This is why I plan on taking Erebor. I would have been content with just his head beforehand, but he _gloated_. He gloated of his victory, allowing his pride to run away from him, pretending it was some great feat that saved him. But do you know what it was? It was luck, nothing more. So no, I will not make his misconception into a reality yet, because I want Thorin Oakenshield to _suffer_ for his crimes!"

Azog turned away from the blazing look that Kíli was giving him, and instead turned towards the goblin.

"So, what did you want to tell me? Are the prisoners awake?"

The terrified goblin looked up at Azog, before nodding slowly.

"WHAT?" Azog thundered. "When?"

"About... About twenty minutes ago..." the goblin stuttered.

"I thought I had made it very clear that I was to be told the _second_ they woke up?" Azog hissed. "Why did that not happen?"

"I... I..."

Azog towered over the goblin, slamming a fist into the side of its head, causing it to collapse against the wall. He would have liked to quite literally tear the goblin's head off, but his haste was stronger than his rage, and so he contented himself by drawing his jagged sword and stabbing the goblin in the chest when he walked past.

But something had hit Kíli like a ten-tonne-weight. Azog was going to take Erebor. Somebody had been taken prisoner – somebody that Azog cared very deeply about. And that meant...

Thorin.

Kíli had to escape. Fast.

* * *

Fíli suddenly leapt forwards towards the trapdoor, his dagger drawn, and he immediately started fiddling with the lock, trying to pick it with the short blade. He was fiddling for about a minute before, by more luck than skill, a click told him that he was successful.

There was a scramble as the door opened and twelve dwarves and a hobbit rushed to force their way through the hatch, acutely aware that there was only so long that even a wizard could stand alone against the tidal wave of goblins.

Gandalf pulled Orcrist from the Great Goblin's grasp and threw it to Thorin, who caught it deftly and, in one sweep, drew the blade from its sheath and sliced the throat of the closest goblin. He blocked an incoming swipe from another, before throwing it backwards so that it staggered into the oncoming horde. Several goblins were knocked back with the force of it, and Thorin felt a sense of grim satisfaction as some of them fell off the podium.

Meanwhile, the rest of the dwarves were busy retrieving their own weapons, before plunging into the fray themselves. It took Balin a minute to recover his axe, and a second later it was embedded in the skull of a goblin intent on sticking a sword in Dori's gut. Dori, who had ducked instinctively at the incoming axe, pulled his own blade from its sheath and slashed open the stomach of another goblin, before spinning and taking the head off another, grinning at Fíli.

"You should have let me do that, Fíli!" he called. He did, after all, pride himself on the locks he made back in the Blue Mountains.

For the first time since before Rivendell, Fíli actually laughed, catching the sword Dwalin tossed him. "What, and give you a chance to show off?"

There was a gleam in Fíli's eyes as he swiped his swords through the throat of a goblin who was brandishing a blade aimed at his head. He hadn't made the distinction between those he was killing and those who had taken his brother from him. He felt that the whole race could be held accountable for Kíli's death, and made no distinction between the different species of orc. They were guilty by association, and nothing would stand between him and vengeance.

When Gandalf had taken his attention from the Great Goblin to throw Orcrist to Thorin, the Great Goblin had taken full advantage of that. He had knocked Glamdring to one side, and by the time Gandalf looked back, he barely had time to raise Glamdring to block the incoming blade. This forced the clashing blades too close to Gandalf for him to manoeuvre out of it comfortably.

Fortunately, Thorin chose that moment to swing Orcrist around so that it sliced the Great Goblin's arm open. It wasn't enough to get his adversary to drop his weapon, but it was enough to drag the attention away from Gandalf and onto him. The Great Goblin swung his sword high overhead, with every intention of bringing it crashing down onto Thorin's head. Thorin raised Orcrist to answer it, but the force of the blow was so strong that the drastic change in momentum went rippling through him, causing him to collapse backwards. The Great Goblin towered over the King under the Mountain –

Glamdring suddenly sunk deep into the Great Goblin's side. The Great Goblin staggered sideways and Thorin seized his chance and leapt to his feet.

"Run!" Gandalf shouted.

* * *

Azog had made the mistake of leaving Kíli alone without a guard, and instead leaving him with a fully-armed dead goblin whose foot was just within reach – of his injured arm.

He had no idea how he was going to get out of the cell, but he thought that if he could just get his hands on a weapon then maybe, if he was lucky, one of the guards would come close enough for him to kill them and get hold of the keys.

Of course, that plan hinged on him getting hold of a weapon.

He reached out with his uninjured hand through the bars of the cell. His fingers brushed against the boot of the goblin, but as hard as he tried, he couldn't get a decent grip. He merely scrabbled aimlessly at the leather, contorting his body to try and get a better hold, but his other shoulder kept getting in the way.

Resigning himself to the fact that if he was going to succeed in getting a hold on the corpse, and more importantly, the weapons attached to it, he would need to use his other arm, he pulled back his uninjured arm and braced himself for the pain. He had spent most of his time keeping the burnt hand from moving, afraid of any infection that might set in, and now he was going to put himself through agony for the sake of escaping.

_Fíli. You're doing this for Fíli._

He took a deep breath, and stretched his hand through the bars. As he lightly brushed the bars, a hiss of pain escaped him, and he almost stopped. The wound had barely healed, and despite his best efforts, a lack of medical supplies combined with Azog's prevention of him cleaning it meant that his hand had picked up some form of infection. Overcoming this obstacle as best he could, he carried on and, with difficulty, his blistered fingertips finally brushed the goblin's boot.

This time, he had more success at getting a decent grip. He stretched his arm further through the bars, and finally hooked his fingers around the goblin's toe. Bracing himself once more, he tried to convince himself that the hard part was done, that this would be positively easy, but he was lying to himself and he knew it. He pulled and, to his immense relief, the goblin actually moved a little closer.

But his hand was in agony. His fingers were hardly the strongest part of his body, as Azog had chosen to burn the hand that he usually used to grip the bow itself rather than pull back the string, and the shifting boot had torn at his broken skin, ripping off the parts that had slightly healed. He let out a cry of pain, but didn't pull his hand back. He was so close now, it was just a little further...

He readjusted his grip, so that the boot was now in the palm of his hand, and he pulled – too much. This time, the boot just slid away from the goblin, so that the goblin remained still and all that he was holding was an empty, useless shoe.

Despair came crashing down on him. His hand hurt too much for him to try again. He threw the boot away from him in frustration, and vainly shut his eyes to keep tears from rolling down his face. He would never see Fíli again, except maybe to watch him die. Azog would kill them all, take Thorin's key and sit on the throne in Erebor unless Smaug incinerated the orc. He wasn't sure which of those options he found most appealing. If Azog failed, then they would have died for nothing, and if Azog succeeded, then they would have died to give him Erebor...

No. It wasn't over yet. Azog hadn't killed him yet.

He suddenly realised that the orc had come closer – perhaps close enough for him to try with his uninjured hand. Pulling his injured hand back and ignoring the stab of pain that flared up as his fingers brushed the bars, he reached back through with his other arm.

Relief shot through him when he could hook his fingers around the goblin's toe. He didn't hesitate, pulling at the corpse as soon as he could. When it shifted a little closer, he readjusted his grip and pulled again, and finally he felt some hope as it edged closer and closer to the bars. He smiled to himself as he realised that he could finally reach the hilt of the sword on the goblin's belt, but pulled it closer for good measure.

He reached out and slid the sword from the belt, pulling it through the bars with a growing sense of elation. The blade was dreadful compared to the swords he was used to using, but right at that point he would have been glad with a butter knife.

Now came the part that involved getting out. The lock looked too sturdy for him to force, and he was so dreadful at picking locks that when he tried, people were more worried for the tool than their privacy, but the door was only as strong as its weakest link. The hinges looked ancient and they were so rusty that as he passed his fingers over them flakes crumbled at his touch. If he was going to get out, he would need to break the hinges.

He took a swing at the top one with his new-found sword, and felt some satisfaction as it began to crumble. It took a few more swings before the blade actually broke through the corroded metal, but when an opening appeared in the ring and the door shifted forward slightly. He tucked the sword into his belt, before running at the door and slamming against it with his good shoulder.

The door shifted forwards some more, the top hinge not quite becoming free.

He ran at it again, and this time, luck was on his side. The top of the door swung forwards pivoting on the bottom hinge. An opening appeared between the top of the door and the ceiling – a big enough opening that he could climb out of the cell if he could reach it. With one hand, he hauled himself up onto the slanted gate and the door, and it swung further forwards with the increased weight. He smiled again, an unfamiliar sensation now, as he realised that he was finally able to escape again.

As he hauled himself over the top of the broken door and landed on the ground, he laughed, before running down the passageway. He had hope again.

* * *

The company followed Thorin over the bridge that spanned one of the deepest chasms they'd ever seen, save Khazad-dûm in Moria. They knew that the goblins were close on their tail, but they refused to check how close. Just as long as the goblins weren't attacking them, the company could outrun them.

They ran onto a stone platform, only noticing the swarm of goblins that was coming out of the tunnel that led to the platform when it was upon them. Thorin accidentally ran straight into the foremost goblin, and together they clattered into the horde, causing several more to trip over them.

Those bringing up the rear of the party had more success in stopping in time. Bofur, instead of running into them, stabbed the goblin that Thorin had just collided with, while Dori and Oin blocked the incoming blows of the nearby goblins, giving Thorin a chance to disentangle himself.

Gloin, meanwhile, swung his axe at the base of the bridge behind him with enough force that the fracture created a foot-wide gap between the company and the goblins chasing them. He recovered his axe, and swung it at the head of one that seemed determined to take Bilbo's head from his shoulders.

Bilbo had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He had his sword drawn, but it was all he could do to block the incoming swipes of the nearby swords. He was on the defensive, pushing one sword away only to find it replaced with another. For all the notice he took of those wielding them, he might just have been attacking a pile of swords.

Gandalf was the only one who had kept his head, and was the only one who gave any thought to getting out. He had a slightly better knowledge of the tunnels around them, having gotten lost in them several times as he struggled to make his way to the dwarves, but this part was completely unknown to him. He dispatched a goblin with a quick blow to the head, before his eyes fell on a virtually deserted bridge that ran parallel to the platform that was just within jumping distance – for him.

That didn't mean that the dwarves would make it across without help.

There was nothing else for it. He grabbed Nori, who was nearest, and, ignoring the noises of protest from the dwarf, launched him high into the air, so that Nori landed sprawled on the platform. Nori immediately started shouting profanities at Gandalf, screaming about how undignified it was, and that just because Gandalf was a wizard did not mean that he had the right to toss a dwarf, all of which Gandalf ignored.

Thorin, however, could see the worth in Gandalf's actions, undignified as they were.

"Bifur!" he called out, as Bifur was nearest to Gandalf now that Nori was on the platform.

As Bifur was jettisoned into the air, something occurred to Fíli. As he had taken the lives of more and more goblins, his hatred of the race grew stronger. He had become less angry at Gandalf and Thorin, and more furious at the race that had taken Kíli from him. And now nobody was stopping him from getting his revenge.

While the entrance to the tunnel next to him was blocked by the horde of goblins, the tunnel itself was empty. He started fighting more aggressively, forcing his way through. He finally made it into the tunnel, and started running down it.

Thorin turned around as Bilbo was launched into the air to where seven of the twelve remaining dwarves were now waiting, and his heart stopped at what he saw.

"FÍLI, GET BACK HERE!" he screamed. "FÍLI!"

-:-

Kíli felt an overwhelming sense of relief as he met nobody along the tunnel. Something else clearly had their attention, and he didn't need to think hard to guess what.

As he finally found his way out of the tunnel, coming into the cavern, however, two of Azog's minions came down, looking somewhat alarmed. Kíli pressed himself against the wall, not wanting to raise the alarm.

"You heard what he said," one was saying. "We get the dwarf and we get out. We cannot risk them finding him. If they do, then Azog will be furious. And you know what he's like when he's angry. And guess who he'll take his anger out on."

As their voices faded away into darkness, Kíli started to feel worried. They would make it back to the cell, they would see it empty, they would raise the alarm, and he would have no chance of escaping unless he found the others.

Without another minute's hesitation, he ran out of the tunnel and onto a deserted wooden platform.

-:-

Fíli hadn't heard his uncle's shout over the blood pounding in his ears and the screams of the goblins. He sprinted ahead, a fire burning inside him as he burst into another cave. Several goblins looked up at his approach, before they ran forward and began attacking him.

He sliced the throat of one that came closest to him, before spinning and thrusting his sword into the chest of another. He gutted another in the same stroke as plunging the blade into the side of the one furthest from him, splashing black blood over his clothes.

When he had taken down all the goblins in the cave, he noticed where he was. He was in an armoury, and lying on the tables next to all the swords that still remained, he saw several sticks of what he guessed to be explosives. Goblins loved blowing things up, and Fíli felt that if he wanted to get his revenge, then taking down a huge part of the cavern seemed to be a fairly fitting way to do it. He seized a couple of sticks, before running out the other end of the cave into the main cavern.

-:-

Kíli looked around wildly, trying to take in his surroundings, unable to decide where to go. He had reached a fork some way away from the tunnel where he had been imprisoned, but had absolutely no knowledge of the rest of the cavern.

He looked up, and was unable to believe his eyes when he saw his brother run out of a cave high above him. There was another bridge between him and Fíli, but as he looked up, relief crashed over him.

He had made it back to them. His brother was alive. Any second now, Fíli was going to look down and see him. Then he would come and help him, and together they would escape this mountain, and they would be together again. It seemed a year had passed since they had last seen each other, but none of that would matter if he could just talk to his brother...

"FÍLI!" he shouted.

-:-

Fíli ran out into the cavern, where he was hardly surprised to meet with more goblins. He swung his sword high over his head, bringing it crashing down so that it smashed open the skull of a goblin. He pulled out a stick of explosive and held it up against a nearby torch until it caught fire while he stabbed another goblin in the stomach, before dropping the explosive down onto a bridge below him.

He stopped for a second as he heard something shout his name. Well, he couldn't be sure he'd heard it over the cries of the goblins. He looked around for the source of the shout, but couldn't see anything...

-:-

Kíli watched as his brother cast his eyes around for the source of the noise. He was about to shout again, to tell his brother where he was, but before he could do so, a hand closed around his mouth.

Azog suddenly dragged him away along the bridge, away from his brother... Kíli fought against Azog, his good hand scratching against Azog's, fighting to pull him away, to get back to his brother. He had to get to Fíli...

-:-

Something suddenly caught Fíli's eye. Far below him, so far below that he could barely make them out, he saw a tall, pale orc drag something away. He couldn't make out any of the features of the thing the orc was dragging, he could barely tell if it was a goblin or not. He had every intention of finding out what was going on, and help the thing if he could, but his eyes only met with the pair for less than a second.

And then the bridge between them exploded.

* * *

**A/N: So that is the longest chapter I think I've ever written! I hope it makes up for the wait for it... Yeah, I'm not great at fight scenes but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I also just want to thank everybody again for the absolutely superamazingfantasterrific response, (I don't care if it's not a word, it is now,) I have never written a story that has had over 100 reviews until now, so thank you all!**

**Happy last day of 2012!**


	8. Part 1 Chapter 8

8

Thorin watched in horror as Fíli ran away.

_Not again... Please, not again..._

He started after Fíli, before Dwalin yanked at his arm, holding him back.

"Let go of me!" Thorin snarled, pulling against Dwalin's grip to no avail. "I am _not_ leaving him behind! I have already lost one member of the company, I am _not_ going to make the same mistake again!"

He finally managed to pull himself out of Dwalin's tight hold, and before anyone could say another word, he was sprinting down the passage after his heir.

He couldn't tell if it was rage or worry that kept him going, but as he ran down the passage, he saw Fíli's trail of destruction. There wasn't a single goblin left behind alive – anything that moved that he did not recognise, Fíli had killed. The action, so like his brother's, differed in one key aspect: while Kíli's motivation was to try and provide some form of distraction to aid them, Fíli had gone seeking revenge.

Thorin ran into the now-empty armoury, his eyes taking in everything from the gnarled bows that looked as though they wouldn't fire an arrow without breaking to the disturbed pile of notched and curved blades. And then he noticed the most worrying thing in there – the various sticks of explosives.

He was jerked out of his reverie by the sound of clashing swords. He ran out as fast as he could, desperate to at the very least to help his nephew.

He finally broke out into the main cavern in time to see something snag Fíli's attention away from the fight. Thorin drew Orcrist, intending to continue defending Fíli until a sensible time came for them to make their escape, when he noticed a very thin column of smoke rising rapidly from below them.

What had Fíli done?

He ran forwards, but he was a fraction of a second too late. As he reached Fíli, the cavern lit up with an orange light. Thorin bundled Fíli down underneath him, shielding his body from the blast with his own.

-:-

Kíli was thrown backwards with the force of the blast. He landed on top of Azog, miraculously still on the bridge. He was slightly dazed, but one thought came to him, rising above all others.

_Fíli._

The fire seemed to clear, leaving a huge cloud of dust over them. Kíli, unable to hold his breath for particularly long, inhaled a large amount of it. He doubled over, coughing, unable to breathe as Azog straightened up, towering over him. He suddenly felt a huge fist slam into the side of his face, and he collapsed sideways, dizzy from the force of the blow.

But he couldn't give up. He had to get to Fíli.

He pushed himself up into a kneeling position, looking up at the rocky platform where he'd seen his brother. He could see figures moving around through the dust, bleary silhouettes, but he couldn't make out any of them.

Azog smacked Kíli sideways, but this time he had more success in keeping himself upright. He stumbled, inhaling more dust as the force of the blow surprised him, but he found that the dust was settling. It wasn't gone, but he could make out the figures around where his brother had been.

Except he couldn't make out Fíli.

His brother was gone.

He was alone again.

-:-

Fíli's ears were still ringing from the blast, and he was dimly conscious of somebody's weight on top of him. The weight lifted, and he felt something tugging at his arm.

Fíli got to his feet, looking at where he thought he'd seen the orc fighting with the figure, but the dust in the air was so thick that he couldn't see anything. He hadn't been sure they were there at all, as he had seen them for such a short time, but if they _were_ there, he did want to help.

"Come on," growled a very familiar voice, and Fíli suddenly became aware that he was practically being dragged away from the scene by Thorin.

Fíli followed the arm tugging at his own, and he and Thorin set off at a run down the same way that they'd come. There was no point staying there, and the cover the dust gave them was perfect for their escape.

They ran straight through the armoury, their flight so far completely unnoticed by the goblins, who were either too dazed or too blind to pay them much attention. They sprinted down the tunnel, and came to the platform where the others had jumped across to the other bridge, but were relieved to find it completely deserted, save for the small mountain of corpses that littered the pathway that ran along the mountain wall.

Instead of attempting the jump that the others had done, however, they ran down the path that led away from the platform. However, this time they were less lucky in terms of passing unnoticed.

"There they are!" shouted the Great Goblin.

Fíli sped up, but skidded to a halt when he realised that Thorin was not following him.

"Go on!" Thorin shouted, drawing Orcrist. "I'll catch you up!"

Fíli shook his head resolutely, drawing his own sword, walking back to where Thorin stood, facing the oncoming horde. "No, if you're staying, I'm staying-"

"For once in your life, would you just _obey orders without question!?_" Thorin screamed. He was absolutely furious with Fíli for running off, and having his nephew defy him had pushed him to the limit.

Fíli gave his king one last blazing look, and seriously considered standing his ground, but the fire in Thorin's eyes, emphasised by the pale blue light of Orcrist was enough to make him reconsider. He nodded once, before setting off down the path. However, when he reached the entrance to the tunnels, he looked back.

Thorin stood alone against the Great Goblin, Orcrist held high against the twisted metal blade.

"Stay back," the Great Goblin ordered the horde behind him, before turning to Thorin. "You thought that it would be a good idea to try and escape?"

The Great Goblin stepped towards Thorin, who answered by holding his blade out in front of him, the tip touching the enormous gut.

"You're hunted, Thorin Oakenshield," the Great Goblin said softly. "You escape me, and all that happens is that my associate would find another band of orcs to trap you. And what happens then? You might find yourself in a less... hospitable place than my palace next time. The price on your head will only get larger, until you find every orc, every goblin, every warg from here to the sea on your tail. Is that really what you want? To spend your life running?"

"Why is the price on my head so large?" Thorin growled.

"He's after revenge. My associate wants your head. You insulted him many years ago. And you forget that he has your son."

"For the last time, I don't have a son!"

The Great Goblin laughed. "You really are cruel. Such a person deserves to die. And I will personally be the one to reap the reward for removing you from this world."

Thorin smiled wryly. "I don't think so."

He swung Orcrist high above his head, bringing it down hard against the Great Goblin's sword. The blades squealed as metal ground against metal. Thorin kicked out, slamming his boot against the shin of the goblin, causing him to stumble backwards. Without a second's hesitation, Thorin swung Orcrist against the goblin's neck while his guard was down. The elvish blade tore through flesh and bone alike, showering those around the Great Goblin with blood as his head was torn from his body, before both parts of the corpse fell sideways into the chasm below.

There was a moment of utter silence, as dwarf and goblins alike watched the broken body of the Great Goblin spin down into darkness, before chaos erupted around them.

The goblins started screaming angrily, as Thorin started running backwards, before turning and running to where Fíli stood waiting. The pair sprinted into the labyrinth of tunnels, with what seemed to be the entire goblin population hot on their heels. They had absolutely no idea of the way out, but as they ran further and further into the darkness, it seemed that they were gaining ground on the goblins chasing them.

The tunnels twisted and turned, and Thorin led Fíli blindly through the first passageways he could see when the one they were following at the time reached either a fork or a dead end.

"Thorin," gasped Fíli after a while. "Thorin!"

Thorin ploughed on ahead, completely ignoring the fact that Fíli had stopped.

"Thorin, we've been here before!"

Thorin finally slowed down, turning back to where Fíli stood waiting.

"How do you know?"

"I cut myself on this rock," Fíli pointed out a splash of blood on the stone next to him. "We're going in circles!"

Thorin glared at the crimson drops on the rock, as though they were somehow to blame for them getting lost. "Well then, what do you suggest?" he asked sarcastically. "Go back and try blowing up the mountain again?"

Before Fíli could speak, however, he was interrupted by the harsh screams that meant that the goblins were coming. Thorin pulled Fíli onwards down the tunnel, until they reached a fork where they had turned right before. However, Thorin instead took the left passageway, running blindly down it into the darkness, unaware of who else was following them.

They followed the new tunnel, which, while it twisted and turned, seemed to have no other tunnels leading off the sides. They rounded a bend, and were stunned to see a stab of sunlight shining down from a small opening in the roof.

Fíli stared up at it, as though he'd forgotten what natural light looked like.

"We're nearly out," he breathed, a smile creasing his features.

"No we're not," Thorin growled. He'd gone to look ahead down the tunnel, only to find that it had either caved in or had been blocked to prevent their escape. "We're trapped – "

The cries of the goblins were getting closer, and they seemed somehow more frenzied. Thorin could only guess that they'd found the splash of Fíli's blood.

"Fíli, do you have any more of that explosive?"

Fíli's eyes lit up as he understood what Thorin was getting at. He produced the last stick that he had, and handed it to Thorin.

Thorin wedged it into the gap, pulling out his tinderbox and setting the end on fire, before scrambling behind a rock where Fíli had taken shelter.

The explosion was deafening. The whole tunnel seemed to shake with the blast, and the rocks cracked ominously above their heads.

However, it had done the job. The opening in the top of the tunnel had widened so that Fíli and Thorin could scramble through. As soon as the fire cleared, they made their move. They couldn't afford to wait, the ceiling looked dangerously close to collapsing as they broke through the hole, and tumbled out uncomfortably into the mid-morning sunlight.

-:-

Balin strained his eyes, searching for any sign of either Fíli or Thorin. They were standing in a clearing of a light forest, Gandalf having led them out of the tunnels by a miraculous amount of luck. Nobody seemed to have noticed the third absence in the company.

Suddenly, a loud bang shattered the silence.

"What was that?" asked Dori.

Balin peered through the trees, his eyes racing across the base of the mountain, flitting from rock to rock, until –

A turret of smoke was rising from some way to the north of where they were. He could just make out two short figures emerging from the dust...

"Fíli! Thorin!" Balin called, waving his arms as high as he could in the air.

Thorin turned towards the shout, and felt a wave of relief crash over him. The company were safe, free of that mountain. As far as he could tell, nobody had been hurt, given as how everyone there was on their feet.

As he and Fíli walked into the clearing where the others were waiting, they drew stares from the others. The dust coating them had settled in their hair, making the pair look like they'd aged fifty years in the space of about a day. However, nothing quite compared to the look of absolute rage on Thorin's face.

"What were you _thinking?_" Thorin yelled at Fíli, as soon as he'd established that aside from the occasional cut, nobody had been hurt. "You nearly got yourself killed! Running off like that, it was madness! You could have died!"

"I don't care!" Fíli snapped. "I wanted them to kill me! Then I wouldn't have had to live with this!"

"You nearly put this entire quest in jeopardy! And what if you'd been caught? Do you think you could have stayed silent as they put you through unimaginable pain for the sake of information? What would have happened if you'd told them about why we were in the Misty Mountains in the first place? They'd have come after us, and taken everything in Erebor for their own – "

"Oh, what does it _matter?_" Fíli shouted, sounding close to tears. "What does _any_ of the gold in Erebor matter compared to what I've lost? You think I can _buy_ Kíli back? I don't _care_ about you, or your pathetic kingdom, or _anything_ except him!"

Thorin lost his temper. He threw Fíli against a tree and held him there, shaking uncontrollably with rage – he wanted to hit him, to knock some sense into his nephew. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that you are the only person to have lost somebody for the sake of our home!" he hissed. "You think I haven't lost family? When Kíli died, I lost my youngest nephew! When we tried to take Moria, I lost my grandfather, my father, and my brother there! When Erebor fell to Smaug, I lost my home, my friends, _everything!_ Do you think that I haven't wanted to run on a suicidal killing spree for the sake of revenge? But it was never an option for me! Because if we die, then Durin's line is extinct! We don't _get_ that luxury! And if I had lost you today, then how do you think _I'd_ feel? I would have lost one of the last members of my family! So don't you _dare_ start pretending that I don't understand how you feel right now!"

He finished his rant, breathing hard, and suffered Gandalf to guide him away from Fíli.

"I can't have you running off, chasing every opportunity to get revenge, with no regard for this quest or your own life," Thorin snapped. "Go home."

"What?"

"I _said:_ go home!"

"Thorin, maybe you should think about this..." Gandalf said calmingly. "He made a mistake. Are you telling me that _you've_ never made a mistake?"

Thorin fell silent, glaring furiously at Fíli.

"Unless he can swear to me that he'll never do anything like that again, I'm sending him home!"

Gandalf looked at Fíli expectantly.

Fíli hesitated, weighing up his options. But Kíli would not want him to be sent home in disgrace. Kíli would have wanted him to see Erebor.

"I promise," Fíli said softly.

"Swear it," growled Thorin.

Fíli looked deep into Thorin's eyes. "I swear by Aulë that I won't."

Thorin seemed satisfied – or at least as satisfied as he was going to be. He shook Gandalf's hand off before turning on his heel. "Just keep him away from me," he snarled, before walking into the forest.

Fíli looked around at the others, who were either glancing at him with pity, or looking at Thorin warily, as though he was more likely to explode than the stick they had used to escape from the mountains. And it was then that he noticed the final person absent from the company.

"Where's Bilbo?"

The tension broke, only to be replaced by worry. They looked around, as though expecting him to just materialise from behind their backs.

He didn't quite do that. Instead, he stepped out from behind a tree.

"Where have you been?" Nori asked, slightly put out that he had gotten himself worked up over nothing.

"And more to the point, how did you not notice him, Balin?" Gloin glared at Balin as though it was his fault.

"I'm just... very good at moving stealthily," Bilbo smiled. "Hobbits are good at passing unnoticed, as Gandalf has said many times before."

"That you must be," Balin stated, still absolutely baffled as to how he failed to notice Bilbo. "That must be the first time anything has slipped unnoticed by my watch in a long time."

"How did you escape the tunnels?" Bifur asked.

"The same way as Fíli and Thorin. As we were leaving, I slipped and fell down a crack in the rocks. When I came to, I was in this cold, dark tunnel, without the faintest idea where I was or where anybody else was. I didn't have much choice in the matter, so I followed the tunnel, using my sword as a light, until I came to this lake. It was enormous, but I began to feel as though I wasn't entirely alone. I would have heard goblins coming, it was so quiet, but then I noticed these two pale pinpricks of light, staring at me from out of the darkness. It took me a while to realise, but they were eyes. They were eyes of one of the most repulsive creatures I think I've ever seen – and that includes the Great Goblin. It was a half-starved thing, but it looked more than capable of murder. So I asked it for its name, and it said it was called Gollum. And then I asked Gollum for the way out, but the creature only cared for food. Or at least, I thought it did, until it asked me a riddle. So I challenged Gollum to a game of riddles, with the deal being that should I win, he would show me the way out, and when I sensed Gollum was getting tired of the game, I asked Gollum what I had in my pocket. I couldn't think of anything else, you see, so after three guesses, Gollum hadn't struck gold, as it were. So I told him to show me the way out. But Gollum didn't keep his promise. He tried to attack me, several times, but I slipped – I, ah, slipped down behind a rock, and watched as Gollum went down the tunnel, and followed him quietly, constantly praying that he wouldn't see me. He eventually led me to where I saw Thorin and Fíli, but Gollum feared the goblins. He slipped around behind a rock, and I was so worried that Gollum would see me that I pulled out my sword, and I was going to kill him. But I didn't have the heart to. I was worried that he was going to see me, but he _hadn't_, and I couldn't just stab him in the back unawares. So I took my chances, and leapt over the rock. The goblins weren't quite within my sight, so I followed Thorin and Fíli down the tunnel, and when you blew open the side of the mountain, I followed you afterwards."

"We didn't see you," Fíli said, confused that both he and his uncle had committed such a large oversight.

"Well, as I said, hobbits are very good at passing unnoticed."

"We should probably go," Gandalf finally cut in. "Orcs may not be able to move in sunlight, but I wouldn't advise sitting on their doorstep until nightfall. We should probably move away from them while we still can."

"Can we eat first?" Bilbo asked. "I swear, I'm absolutely starving."

"I'm not surprised, you were unconscious for about a week."

"_What?_"

"Where were you in all that time?" Bofur asked the wizard.

"Looking for you," Gandalf snapped. "I couldn't follow you down the tunnel that you took, and it took me four days to find another one. In the end I had to go back down the pass, west of the mountains, and searched until I found an unlocked door. And then it took me another three days or so to find my way around the tunnels. We're lucky we came out on the right side of the mountains at all, really."

Bilbo was feeling slightly sick at the thought of going over a week without food. If there had been anything left in his stomach, he would have likely thrown up.

"I think that counts as a valid excuse to delay leaving," Bombur said decisively. Eating for the first time in a week is very important, and takes priority over anything else – "

"And what are you going to eat, Bombur?" Thorin asked, signalling his return. He looked a lot calmer, but he was still covered in dust. "The goblins took all our supplies. I suggest that we keep walking until we find some form of food, and then we can stop. But until then, I suggest that we put as much distance between ourselves and this accursed mountain as we can."

* * *

Kíli weakly suffered himself to be dragged back to the platform where the Great Goblin's throne stood, barely noticing that he was still coughing from the dust. He could barely stand, sadness crushing him at the thought of going another day without Fíli – not after they had been so close...

"So you lied to me," Azog said quietly. "You actually had the nerve to lie to me."

Azog slammed his fist into Kíli's face, and there was a painful crack as the dwarf's nose broke. Blood spurted across his face, and Kíli fell sideways.

"You lied to me about your relation to Thorin Oakenshield! According to him, you don't even _exist!_"

Azog was absolutely furious. He was not only furious with Kíli, but at the goblins who had so readily allowed their prisoners to escape. Another opportunity might not come for a long time, and this one had been so _perfect..._

"And not only that, but you thought that some foolhardy escape attempt would actually _work!_ I knew you were an idiot, but even _you_ couldn't have thought that you could escape this place!"

Something dimly registered in Kíli's mind. Thorin had said that he didn't _exist?_

"So why did you lie about your relation to him?"

Kíli continued to cough weakly, the dust preventing him from breathing. Azog, frustrated by the noise and lack of answer, hauled him upwards, and grabbed his canteen of water. Tipping Kíli's head back, he forced Kíli's lips apart, and poured the liquid down Kíli's throat, before shutting his mouth and pinching his nose, forcing Kíli to swallow.

The water was filthy, and completely unfit for any being apart from orcs to drink. Kíli's first instinct was to spit it out, but Azog's hand on his chin prevented that. He choked, determined not to swallow, but eventually, the lack of air made him desperate.

It did the job, and once Kíli recovered, taking deep breaths, Azog repeated the question.

"I didn't!" Kíli gasped. "I swear, I didn't!"

"Look here, _dwarf!_" Azog snarled. "Thorin Oakenshield abandoned you! He left you here to die! We told him we had you, and yet he left you here, denying your very _existence!_"

Kíli shook his head, wishing himself not to believe it. But even as he did so, he could feel a sense of betrayal like a knife in his stomach. Thorin had found out that he was a prisoner, and hadn't even made the vaguest attempt to rescue him...

And that hurt just as much as losing his brother had.

"Tell me," Azog hissed. "Where did they go?"

Kíli shook his head, doing everything he could to prevent the tears that threatened to come. Azog backhanded the side of Kíli's face at his refusal to cooperate, and Kíli couldn't keep his emotions in check any longer.

"I don't know!" Kíli screamed hoarsely. "I swear, I don't know!"

Azog looked down at Kíli, who had his eyes tightly shut with both physical and emotional pain. He let out a cry of rage, and swung his mace onto Kíli's leg. There was a loud crack as the bones snapped like twigs under the force of the blow.

"You had better hope that you don't see your friends again," Azog snarled, looking more feral than Kíli had ever seen him. "Because if we find them, then I am going to make you watch as I carve them up into dog meat!"

Kíli, struggling to focus on anything past the pain in his leg, looked up at Azog pitifully. "I will offer you a deal," he begged. "My life... in exchange for theirs. You can do whatever you want to me – I won't try and escape again. Just please... _please _spare them..."

Azog glared at Kíli, his gaze cold.

"Tie him to a warg," Azog ordered one of the waiting orcs. "We start at dusk."

* * *

**A/N: I know, I'm really horrible... I just couldn't resist the whole 'so near... yet so far' thing. As always, thank you everyone for all the lovely reviews! Please, if there's anything that you think doesn't work very well, constructive criticism is insanely helpful! It really does mean a lot that everyone takes the time to review, and I hope that you enjoyed the latest instalment! Also, I'm likely to get myself stuck in a car for another six and a half hours tomorrow, so I should get another chapter done then.**

**Happy 2013!**


	9. Part 1 Chapter 9

9

It was nearly dusk. Despite the fact that the company had been walking all day, they had seen nothing that was edible, meaning that their stomachs were still empty and their moods no better for it. The only slight consolation that they had was that they _had_ found a freshwater stream, which meant that while they still felt the pangs of hunger, they were no longer dizzy from lack of water. The closest they had found to anything even close to satisfying their empty stomachs was a small growth of mushrooms, which, after brief inspection, Gandalf had pronounced to be poisonous. Of course, most of the company were so hungry that they probably would have eaten them anyway if Thorin hadn't threatened to revoke vast quantities of treasure if they didn't move on - a threat he probably would not have carried out.

"Right, we're camping here for tonight," Thorin finally sighed. He was exhausted, any remaining energy spent after the escape from the goblin tunnels. His temper was wearing thin, and if he had to tell Bombur to keep going one more time, he would probably end up removing a limb from his companion. So in answer to all his problems, Thorin decided that they could stop, and he would send Bofur and Nori out to hunt food.

Fíli watched the pair go with a sense of relief. He had been shaken by Thorin's ire, and he had meant it when he'd sworn never to do anything of the sort again. However, Thorin had said no more on the matter, and Fíli was not going to bring it up with him. Instead, he sought out somebody who he owed an apology to.

"Thank you," he said softly to Gandalf, as the wizard prodded the fire they had started.

Gandalf looked up at Fíli, confused. "What for?"

"For persuading Thorin not to... not to..."

Gandalf smiled and held up his hand to stop Fíli's stuttering. "It's fine. Nobody got hurt, you've clearly learnt from it, and I think it's best if we put it behind us."

"Also, I'm... I'm sorry for what I said... back on the other side of the mountains. I was wrong. I shouldn't have taken my anger for what happened to Kíli on you. I was-"

"Grieving," Gandalf said calmly over Fíli's next word. "You had just lost your brother, and I had falsely reassured you about it, and I made a promise to you that I couldn't – and didn't – keep. Understandably that made you angry. I would have expected nothing less of you."

"But that doesn't make it-"

"Fíli, I forgive you. You apologised, and I accepted it. I cannot begin to understand how you felt, never having had a brother to lose, but your reaction was expected. So shall we forget the incident and focus on finding something to-"

He was cut off by a loud shout from Bofur.

"THORIN!" the dwarf yelled. "WARGS!"

All eyes snapped up to where Bofur was pointing. Sure enough, there was a pack of the wolves of Gundabad standing at the top of the hill, looking down on them. At Bofur's shout, the wargs started charging, urged on by the orcs riding them.

"RUN!" Thorin shouted. The company didn't have the strength left to fight them, and they knew that fact as well as he did.

There was a flurry of activity in the camp, as everyone grabbed their weapons, abandoning anything else that lay on the ground around them, and fled from the oncoming pack. It was complete chaos, all pride forgotten, as they ran as fast as they could through the trees.

Gloin, who had been the first to leave, and had essentially been leading the dwarves in a disorganised rabble, barely noticed the oncoming cliff until he nearly ran off it. He was pulled back by Ori at the last second, and the pair fell backwards into the others. But the advancing wargs prevented them from turning back and looking for somewhere else to go. They were trapped.

"Climb a tree!" Gandalf ordered, swinging into the branches of the nearest one.

"And what then?" Thorin snapped. "We'll still be as trapped as we are now!"

"Do you want to become dog meat, or not?"

The dwarves around them hauled themselves up into the trees, occasionally giving Bilbo a hand as they went. With no small amount of luck, they found themselves in the trees, out of reach when the wargs finally reached them.

The wolves slowed down when they saw that the dwarves were high in the trees, nestled uncomfortably in the branches. Instead, they stared longingly up at them, circling the bases – the wargs would get the dwarves eventually, that much was certain.

Gandalf looked down at the wargs, thinking hard. There was some truth in Thorin's earlier words. They were still trapped, still weakened by their imprisonment in the Misty Mountains, and still hopelessly outnumbered. There was only so long they could stay in the trees, and should it come to a stand-off, the wargs would not be the first to move.

And then his eyes fell on the broken branch next to him.

Bilbo considered himself lucky that he was even in the tree at all, but he was not entirely comfortable about being on one of the lowest branches, and certainly below all the dwarves. He pulled his legs up out of self-preservation when the wargs started snapping at them, but he was struggling to balance, and was worried that he might fall at any second.

And he nearly did out of surprise when the flaming branch fell from above, narrowly missing his arm.

The branch exploded in a shower of sparks as it hit the warg below him, igniting the beast's coat, sending it howling back to its fellows. The orc leapt from its back as the branch hit the warg, but the orc fell a second later as a second branch was thrown by Gandalf with surprising accuracy.

"Balin!" Gandalf called, tossing a branch to him for him to throw.

Catching on to Gandalf's plan, the dwarves began breaking off sticks from the trees they were sitting in, either asking Gandalf to light the tips or igniting them from other burning branches, before launching them like javelins at the orcs.

The flames lit up the night, the bright orange painting streaks on the darkness like a meteor shower. The wargs pulled back, retreating from the flames and slinking back into the shadows, and for a moment, the company thought they had won. But then, out of the darkness came the orcs that had previously hung back. And in the centre, astride a white warg, sat a figure that had haunted Thorin's nightmares for years. A figure whom Thorin had long believed dead.

Azog the Defiler glared up at him.

"Now, this _is_ a rare sight," Azog said quietly, though his voice carried over the scene more clearly than if he'd shouted it. "Thorin Oakenshield... hiding in a tree."

A couple of the surrounding orcs laughed.

"You only really know if somebody's a coward or not if you face them with death," Azog continued. "There are those who will try and fight it – they will face it head-on, and they are the strong ones. And then there are those who...hide. The cowards. The ones who flee from death, running from it like the moon flees from the sun. It's strange – I always thought that the great Thorin Oakenshield would be a fighter. But now I see that he's as much of a coward as his grandfather was."

The mention of Thror cut through Thorin more effectively than a knife. A long-dormant rage awoke inside him, and almost without thinking, he drew Orcrist from its sheath. This would end here. Azog would see no more nights. He would not flee from another sunrise. Nobody else was going to die at his hand.

He pulled himself to his feet, and leapt from the tree, the Goblin-Cleaver aimed for Azog's head.

Azog raised his sword in answer, and there was a crash as the blades met in mid-air. Thorin fell to one side as he landed painfully, the force of the impact sending shockwaves up his legs. He staggered, before the white warg launched itself into his chest. Thorin fell back, Orcrist flying from his grip, and Azog pressed the tip of his blade against Thorin's neck. The fight was over before it had really begun.

"You fool, Oakenshield," Azog breathed. "And to think I once believed you to be a worthy opponent."

Azog raised his sword to deal the fatal blow –

"AZOG!" screamed a desperate voice from the shadows, where the other orcs were waiting. "YOU LIAR! I THOUGHT WE HAD A DEAL!"

Azog looked up, and beckoned one of the orcs to come forward. It was only now that Thorin noticed the figure being dragged along by the side of the warg by their wrists, bouncing off the floor, making no attempt to gain his footing.

"My life in exchange for theirs!" the person was screaming. "That was what we agreed!"

As soon as the warg was within reaching distance, Azog sliced the bonds holding Thorin's saviour to the warg, before grabbing the figure by the neck.

"Your life is already mine!" Azog hissed. "Why should I buy something that I already own?"

Azog threw the figure down next to Thorin, and the person raised their head to look at the King under the Mountain.

And Thorin finally recognised him. He was scarred, and his armour was gone, and he was only wearing a tattered shirt, leggings and boots, but there was no mistaking him. Everything suddenly clicked into place. Why the goblins adamantly refused to believe him when he had told him that he didn't have a son, it all made sense now. He had been a fool not to see it before.

The goblins hadn't had his son.

They had had Kíli.

* * *

**A/N: This isn't the entire product of the six-and-a-half-hour car journey, which actually turned out to be an eight/nine hour car trip. There is another chapter, but that was such a **_**perfect**_** place to put a chapter break! Thank you all again for all the lovely reviews, and yes, they **_**finally**_** found Kíli! (I know, it took a while...) And crazy stuff's going down next chapter! Yay!**

**Also, apologies for the warped timings and medical anomalies. Tolkien once said that you lose track of time in goblin tunnels, and so I'm using... artistic license... to get around the mild technical hitches that have occurred. Meh, reality schmeality.**


	10. Part 1 Chapter 10

10

"Kíli!" Fíli cried out.

Happiness flooded through him at the sight of his brother. Kíli was alive, his little brother was still _alive_...

Fíli's happiness was turned to fear almost instantaneously as Azog pressed a sword against Kíli's back.

Azog saw the recognition between Kíli and Thorin, all the unspoken apologies, all the sadness, and he smiled. There was nothing but malice in his gaze.

"So, Thorin Oakenshield... You _did_ abandon your son after all..." Azog dug the blade further into Kíli's back. "I always knew that you were a liar."

"He's not my father!" Kíli snapped, finally realising what Azog had assumed, and why they had thought he had been lying.

Azog looked down at Thorin for confirmation.

"He's my nephew," Thorin snarled. "And I swear that if you don't remove that sword from his back then I will kill you!"

Azog laughed, a cruel sound that ripped at Thorin's ears. "How would you kill me? You are at my mercy, which your _dear_ nephew will tell you only comes when you ask _nicely._"

Azog moved the tip of his blade to Kíli's sleeve, pulling it back to reveal his burnt arm. Thorin winced at the sight of it – the injury itself was brutal enough, but some form of infection had caused it to swell up, and there were angry red blotches going further up his arm than the injuries inflicted by the fire.

"What have you done to him?" Thorin breathed, so appalled that he could barely speak. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Azog grinned, finding the lack of effort needed to draw a reaction from Thorin amusing. "I taught him a lesson. He should have held his tongue."

Thorin glared up at Azog. "Get away from him!"

If such a thing was possible, Azog's smile grew more evil, but to everyone's immense surprise, he stepped back. There was a moment of silence, before the orc spoke again.

"Of course, if I step away, then I can't prevent something like this from happening."

At the signal, the warg that had previously been dragging Kíli along leapt forwards, bearing down on what had, until recently, been its burden. It fastened its teeth around Kíli's maimed arm, throwing him away from Azog. Thorin pushed himself up, about to run to the aid of his nephew, but Azog held him back, pressing his sword against the king's throat.

Kíli cried out in pain as the warg suddenly ripped a chunk of flesh from his broken leg, its teeth tearing through his clothes and skin with ease. He could feel teeth sinking into his side, staining each one with his blood, as it tore flesh from his body again and again. Deep scratches were carved into his body, but the warg wasn't going for the kill. No, Azog wanted to savour that moment for a little longer, enjoying Thorin's emotional anguish as the warg ate ravenously from Kíli's body.

Bilbo watched in horror as the warg bore down on Kíli. Each one of those cries shook him, and he was desperate for Thorin to do something. He didn't want to imagine how Fíli above him was feeling, or how utterly helpless Thorin felt. If he could just get Azog to remove the sword...

Almost without thinking, Bilbo pulled his short blade out, and slid down from the trees, unnoticed. He ran forwards, and slammed into Azog.

It was enough.

Thorin knocked Azog's sword out of the way, before running to where Orcrist lay. Without stopping, he picked up the elvish blade, and slashed at the warg bearing down on Kíli. The warg fell sideways, and the orc astride it fell off. The warg recovered itself, getting to its feet, hackles raised as it faced its new opponent. It leapt forwards –

Thorin ducked out of the way, and when the warg hit the floor, he sliced at the warg's neck, showering himself and Kíli with black blood. But he had forgotten the orc, who had chosen its moment well, trying to take Thorin down while his back was turned.

Kíli, though he was just clinging to consciousness, was vaguely aware of what was happening. As the orc crossed his field of vision, stepping over the youngest member of the company as though he was an inconveniently placed log, he brought his relatively unscathed leg up, and slammed it into the orc's side. Thorin, alerted of what was happening by the grunt issued by the orc, spun around and slammed Orcrist into the creature's gut.

Bilbo, meanwhile, now found himself facing Azog down. The furious orc raised his sword and slammed it down repeatedly, fighting with such rage and aggression that with every blow Bilbo blocked, the hobbit wondered how he was still standing. Though never once did he consider running. He was backed closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, and as the orc raised the sword with both hands behind him, Bilbo felt for the first time in his life that he was going to die.

It saddened him. He would never see the Lonely Mountain. He would never see Bag End again, never see the sun rise over the Brandywine. He was going to die here, in this burning forest, against the top of a cliff. He'd wanted an adventure, but he hadn't thought it through before he rushed out the door, eager to make the deadline of eleven o'clock at the Green Dragon. Like almost everything in his life, he hadn't thought this through, and now he was going to die for it...

...But the blow never came.

A stone hit Azog in the side of the head, pulling the orc's attention away from Bilbo. Fíli stood, his sword drawn, behind Azog. There was a fire blazing in his eyes – hatred such as he'd never known was coursing through his body. He was going to make this foul, sick, twisted creature pay for what he had done to Kíli, and he was damned if Azog was going to kill anybody else tonight. Fili began walking towards Azog, breaking into a run as he got close and the adrenaline took over.

Azog answered the challenge, crossing the distance in a few short strides, before swinging his sword viciously at Fíli's head. Fíli ducked, before slashing at Azog's thigh. He was dimly aware of the other dwarves and Gandalf joining the fight, taking down the other orcs and wargs, but he didn't care. Nothing else mattered to him but that his opponent died by his hand.

Azog stepped back as Fíli straightened up. The pair circled each other in a lethal dance which only one would come out of. Fíli lunged to one side, sword aimed for Azog's side, but Azog blocked it. Fíli pivoted, bringing the sword around in the opposite direction, but once again, Azog parried the blow. Azog then went on the offensive, bringing the blade around, intending to take Fíli's head from his body. Fíli sidestepped the blow, before returning the gesture. Both were fighting to kill.

Kíli, meanwhile, took up the dead orc's sword. With a lot of difficulty, and more help from Thorin, he managed to get to his feet, but he favoured his left – unbroken – leg to his right, and he was too close to the cliff for his liking.

He watched Fíli's fight with Azog, fear gripping his heart as the pair came closer and closer. He knew what Azog was capable of, and he couldn't bear to lose his brother – not now that he was so close to getting him back. But what could he do? He was barely able to stand, let alone fight.

Suddenly, as he blocked another of Fíli's blows, Azog pushed the dwarf backwards. He was tired of the game, and he had guessed, based on the fury behind his adversary's attacks, that Fíli was Kíli's brother. He swung around, grabbing the unsuspecting Kíli by the neck, and stood on the edge of the cliff, dangling Kíli over the edge.

"Put down your weapons!" Azog shouted.

The rest of the company turned, alerted to what was happening, but made absolutely no move to willingly disarm themselves.

"DROP THEM!" Azog screamed.

Thorin looked between Kíli and Azog, before slowly placing Orcrist on the ground. The rest of the company followed their leader's example, some more grudgingly than others.

"Don't do this," Fíli begged. "Please, I'll do anything!"

Azog turned towards Fíli, a curious look on his face.

"He offered you a deal," Fíli continued. "His life in exchange for ours."

"Fíli, don't!" Kíli gasped. Azog, infuriated by the interruption, tightened his hold around Kíli's neck, so he choked and fell silent, unable to breathe.

"What if I were to offer you one?" Fíli suggested. "His life for mine. Please, just... just spare my brother..."

Kíli silently begged Fíli not to do this. Time seemed to stop as he stared desperately at his brother. He could see what would happen – Azog would force him to watch as he executed Fíli, and it would only be a matter of time before he would kill Thorin. He wouldn't be freed – no, that would be too easy, too _kind_... He would be kept alive until Azog was satisfied he had gone through enough pain, and then he would be killed, just as Fíli would be.

He couldn't let that happen.

He thought back to the first night that he had been captured. He had been so _sure_ that everything would be fine back then, so fearless... He had sworn vengeance should Azog harm his brother – he would do anything to protect him.

"_And what would you do to stop me? Kill me?"_

But Azog had said something after that which Kíli was now seriously considering.

"_Your life is in my hands."_

But that wasn't entirely true. Admittedly, Azog was holding him over the edge of a cliff, but there was a big difference between the time that Azog had said those words and that moment – Kíli had a sword.

He actually had a choice over his fate.

He stared at his brother, decision made, barely able to hold back tears as he worked up the courage to do what he had resolved to do. Azog's grip around Kíli's neck loosened slightly, the orc's arm was bending...

Time seemed to speed up. Azog wasn't going to use him as bait anymore.

"I'm so sorry," Kíli whispered, staring at Fíli, before raising the sword in his hand, and he slashed at Azog's wrist.

Azog let out a howl of pain, and Kíli slipped from his grasp. He was airborne, tumbling through the wide expanse of space, his body twisting as he was buffeted constantly by the wind. He could barely hear Thorin's cry of grief over the rushing sound that filled his ears as he fell down the face of the cliff, the world flying past him in a rush of colours. He felt pain flare up in his back as he heard a crack, but he was still falling. There was a splashing sound, and he felt himself come to a halt.

_Please forgive me, Fíli..._

And then Kíli's world faded to darkness.

* * *

**A/N:**

**...**

**...**

**...Please don't kill me...**


	11. Part 1 Chapter 11

11

"No... No..."

Fíli just stared at the spot where his brother had vanished. He hoped that by flat refusal to accept it, it wouldn't have happened, because his brother couldn't be gone again. Kíli couldn't have gone...

He couldn't remember how, but somehow his legs had carried him to the edge of the cliff, and he came within sight of the edge. Kíli would no doubt have landed on a stray tree growing out the side of the cliff, or would have landed on a rock that was jutting out, because he could _not_ have left Fíli.

Not like that.

But Kíli was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't hiding in the boughs of an imaginary tree, and he hadn't landed on a ledge somewhere. There was nothing except the sheer cliff-face, going down further than he cared to think about, before stopping abruptly at a forest below. Which meant that...

Fíli had to find Kíli. He had promised never to leave him, and if that meant following him, then so be it –

An arm grabbed him around the waist. "No, Fíli!"

"Let go of me!" Fíli screamed, struggling futilely against the person dragging him back away from the edge. He _had_ to get to his brother. Nothing else mattered now.

But the person holding him refused to relent. Eventually, Fíli gave up, and all his strength drained as he collapsed in their arms. He abruptly became conscious of the tears streaming down his face, but he made no effort to wipe them away. His pride didn't matter, not now that his brother had gone where he couldn't follow.

Fíli felt somebody force his head up, and he found himself looking at Thorin's face. "Fíli, it's alright. Everything is going to be alright. Everything will work itself out..."

Fíli barely heard what Thorin was saying. His sense of overwhelming disbelief was overpowering everything else in his brain, because all his senses were lying to him – Kíli was not gone. He couldn't be gone, because he'd made a promise to himself to protect him, and he was not breaking that now. Somehow – he didn't know how, but _somehow_ – he was going to get Kíli back.

And then his eyes fell on Azog, who was still cradling the scratch on his arm.

It was that monster's fault. He was the one who had held Kíli over the ravine, he was the one who had taken him in the first place, he was the one who had made Kíli believe that there was no other option but to force him to let go, _he _was the one who had let go of his brother...

Azog should have held on.

A cry of rage ripped itself from Fíli's throat. His fingers wrapped themselves of their own accord around the hilt of his sword, and he launched himself to his feet. He ran towards Azog, fuelled by a deadly mixture of fury and hatred – this monster would pay for what he had done to his brother.

Azog simply looked curiously at the oncoming dwarf, before swinging his mace into Fíli' side when he got too close – it was no more than swatting a fly out of the air. Fíli fell painfully to one side, landing sprawled in the dirt as he glared furiously up at Azog.

"Go on, then," Fíli spat. "Kill me. Kill me like you killed him."

"I wasn't the one who killed him," Azog pointed out. "He was the one who _forced_ me to let go. He was the one who left you."

"HE DID _NOT _LEAVE ME!" Fíli screamed. "He wouldn't..."

"He just did," Azog pointed out, relishing in the wreck lying on the floor before him. "You're only deluding yourself if you try and pretend otherwise."

"Then kill me for it," Fíli growled. "Because I know him, and he would _not_ abandon me! He would give his life to save me, but he would _never_ leave me unless he was forced to! And that is exactly what you did!"

Azog tilted his head slightly. "He was pathetic. Weak. Selfish. He didn't '_give his life_' to save you, he took the easy way out. He deserved to die – "

"HE WAS JUST A CHILD!"

Fíli's cry reverberated around the clearing, and a ringing silence fell. It seemed that even the wind stopped blowing, stilled by the explosion of Fíli's grief.

"He was just a child... And you never gave him a chance to grow up, did you?"

Azog simply remained silent.

"I thought not," Fíli muttered after a moment had passed. "So let me make you a promise. If not by my hand, then by somebody else's, you will pay with your own for every drop of his blood that you spilled. You may be heartless, but you will feel everything that he felt when he suffered at your hands. And you will beg for death by the end!"

These threats were not unfamiliar to Azog. He had been given them often enough by grief-stricken parents and relatives of his victims. However, this one seemed... different. It sparked something within him. Anger, and... something else. Something that was almost entirely unfamiliar to him, that he couldn't quite tell what it was.

And then it hit him like a ten-tonne weight.

For the first time that he could remember, he was scared.

And that was enough. Azog raised his sword, determined to eliminate this threat before it could make good on its promise. He brought the blade down with a swing, and –

It was wrenched from his grasp before he could blink. Something had plucked the weapon from his hand, swooping low over the scene before dropping it over the side of the cliff.

Everyone cast their eyes up in surprise, and in Gandalf's case, delight. No fewer than ten eagles were soaring over the scene. The company barely had time to register the relief at their presence, before as one, as though the first eagle's actions were an unvoiced order, they dived.

Azog was knocked off his feet as he failed to duck in time, and one of the birds swooped low, its talons clawing at his face as he fell back. Fíli leapt to his feet, grabbing his sword, and ran over to where Azog lay. He kicked Azog's sword away as the orc tried to grab it, and stood over the creature, his own sword pressed against Azog's throat.

He braced himself for the kill...

_I'd never taken another person's life before this journey._

He couldn't afford to be weak. He _had_ to take vengeance on Azog.

_Everything I've killed, I've killed for Kíli._

Azog had killed Kíli. He, Fíli, was an heir of Durin. He had made a promise moments ago to spill every drop of blood the creature lying before him had.

_Would Kíli have wanted me to only kill in his name?_

This creature was a monster, who had hurt Kíli more than he dared to imagine. His brother would have wanted him to get revenge. Azog didn't deserve mercy. Azog _had_ to die.

_Kíli wouldn't have wanted me to become a murderer for him._

This wasn't murder though...

_Is it not? He is lying on the floor without a weapon to defend himself. What defines killing somebody in battle from murder?_

He had made a promise.

He owed it to his brother to do the right thing.

Even if that meant sacrificing his principles.

Fíli brought his blade down, but it swung through air as an eagle grasped his body in its talons. He screamed as the eagle lifted him up into the air, an overwhelmingly heavy sense of defeat crushing him. He _couldn't_ let Azog live – not now.

As he was carried away through the air away from the clearing, he felt tears streaming uncontrollably down his face. He had failed – he had failed to protect his brother, he had failed to keep his promise to Azog, and now, he was being carried away from the last place he would ever see his brother. _He _was the one who was leaving.

_I'm so, so sorry, Kíli._

* * *

**A/N: Once again, thank you for all the reviews! Before several people make good on the various death threats etc and I die painfully, I thought I'd better get this chapter up! It's not as good as I'd hoped it would be, because I kept changing it as I wasn't happy with it but it only seemed to get worse as I did so, so I'm sorry about that.**

**Also – answers to _some_ FAQs: 1) No, the story is not finished yet. 2) I wouldn't do something quite so predictable and kind as having an eagle fly in and save him, now, would I?**

**Ok, some more less-than-brilliant news (sorry): I have exams coming up over the coming week, and one of them is for half of my chemistry AS, so I'm really sorry, but I'm not going to be able to write any more chapters until Friday, which means (and I'm really sorry about this) no more updates until the weekend. I know, it sucks, I love writing this story and you all make it worthwhile by reviewing and stuff, but I do actually need to do some work on revising for an exam which I know nothing about. I'll do my best to make the next chapter worth the wait, but I'm really, **_**really**_** sorry about all this. Blame the exam board.**


	12. Part 1 Chapter 12

12

The eagles had been flying for less than an hour before they fell into a smooth descent.

The dwarves were dropped unceremoniously onto a smooth plain of grass, and for a minute, they simply lay there in silence, staring up at the stars above them, allowing the fact that they were somehow _alive_ after everything that they'd been through to sink in.

And then they remembered what they'd lost.

Fíli hit the floor and simply allowed himself to crumple. He closed his eyes, unable to look at the world now that Kíli was no longer in it. Perhaps if he could slip into the land of unconsciousness, then he could not wake up again. Or perhaps he _would_ wake up, and realise that the nightmare that he had just lived through was exactly that – just a nightmare. Perhaps Kíli would be there, the same smile on his face that he had worn seventy seven years ago when Fíli had first held his brother in his arms, the one constant in the dwarf's ever-changing world.

It took more effort than it had ever taken him to do anything before for him to open his eyes at that moment.

But it wasn't a nightmare. It was real, and there was no Kíli. His brother was truly gone.

"Take me back," he demanded, though to nobody in particular. He lifted his head, and fought against his exhaustion, against the pain in his side to get to his feet, if only to reach the eagles that were now flying away. His voice rose to a scream in desperation. "TAKE ME _BACK!_"

But the eagles ignored his cries, and continued flying away. Fíli gave up getting to his feet, instead falling to his knees, his voice breaking.

"Please..." Fíli cried, doing nothing to fight the tears that fell down his face. "Please, I can't leave him... I just can't..."

He bowed his head, and gave in to the sadness that flooded through his body. He barely noticed the hand on his shoulder that was keeping him upright – all the muscles in his body seemed to have forgotten how to work, and he fell against Bofur, sobbing.

Thorin watched Fíli, unable to look his eldest – and now only – nephew in the eyes. It was his fault – he should have guarded Kíli, he should have done everything in his power to prevent Azog from getting near him, but instead, he had allowed his bloodlust to take over, and he had left Kíli alone. And his weakness – the very thing he had lectured Fíli on merely hours before – had resulted in Kíli's death.

"I'm sorry, Thorin."

Thorin turned to see Gandalf watching him. He forced a smile that he knew would not fool the wizard. "It was my fault," he said sadly. "I should have protected him. I shouldn't have let him do something like that."

"Thorin, listen to me," Gandalf snapped. "You are not to blame for this. Kíli made his own decision tonight, just as he did when he took the pony. You couldn't have stopped him, and you would have been a fool to try!"

"On the day that we left, Dís told me that I was responsible for anything that happened to Fíli and Kíli. And I let this happen. It was my responsibility, and the blame lies with me and me alone."

"There was nothing more you, or anybody else, could have done."

"I _should_ have worked it out!" Thorin all but shouted, making the others go quiet as they turned to look at him. "I _should_ have realised that it was him that they had in the mountains, not some fictional... _son!_ I always knew that there was a chance that he was still alive, but I didn't _dare_ to hope! So _don't _try and tell me that it wasn't my fault, because it was!"

There was a pause, before Thorin finally took in their surroundings. They were standing in what appeared to be a field. Now that he paused to listen, he could hear a loud, unrelenting buzzing, like bees.

"So where are we?" he asked.

"As to that, I confess I don't know," Gandalf said.

"What?"

"Our escape was not of my design," the wizard explained. "Somebody else sent the eagles – if they can indeed be _sent_ anywhere – and then brought us here. And I imagine that _he_ might have had something to do with it."

Thorin turned to where Gandalf was pointing, and possibly the most intimidating man that Thorin had ever seen in his long life was walking towards them. Tall and feral-looking, with a wild mane of dark hair surrounding his face, he looked more like an animal than a human, and it was only Gandalf's sharp look that stopped Thorin pulling Orcrist out on him. He held a candle, which threw his features into sharp relief, casting dark shadows across his eyes and nose, while illuminating the other half of his face, making it appear gaunt and skull-like.

"Hello," Gandalf said in a friendly manner, offering the man a smile. "We are terribly sorry, but–"

"Who are you and what are you doing in my garden?" the man snarled.

Gandalf's smile faltered, to be replaced with a look of mild exasperation. "In answer to your first question, I am Gandalf, one of the Istari. You may have heard of me."

The man paused, searching his memory. "No," he said curtly after a second. "I haven't. Why? Is your name supposed to mean something to me?"

"Not necessarily," Gandalf looked the man over. "And am I right in thinking that you are Beorn?"

The man arched an eyebrow suspiciously. "Aye, and what of it? You expect me to just invite you and your rag-tag group of twelve dwarves and... a Halfling into my house without any explanation of who you are and what you're doing this side of the Misty Mountains?"

"No."

"Good, because I wasn't going to."

"However, I am going to give you an explanation of who we are and what we're doing this side of the Misty Mountains."

Beorn sighed. "Of course you are... So let's start with names."

"Well, as I said, I am Gandalf, and you may know another of my order, even if you don't know of the order itself – Radagast the brown, who lives not far from here, on the borders of Mirkwood."

Beorn raised his eyebrows. "I know of him. He's decent enough, if not a bit... strange."

"Right, well, he is of my order-"

"Are you just going to keep repeating yourself? Because if you are, we're never going to get anywhere."

Gandalf glared at Beorn, impatience getting the better of him. "Well, perhaps if you'd let me _finish_, I would have told you that my companions are Balin, Dwalin, Dori, Ori, Nori, Fíli, Gloin, Oin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur–"

"You do realise I'm not going to remember any of that, don't you?"

"You asked for names, did you not?"

Beorn nodded in concession to this point, before gesturing that he should continue.

"So we have Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Fíli, Dwalin, Balin, Oin, Gloin, Dori, Nori, Ori, and the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Beorn looked visibly taken aback. "_The_ Thorin Oakenshield?"

"How many other _Thorin Oakenshields_ are there?" Thorin snapped.

Beorn ignored the dwarf's retort, turning instead to Gandalf, grinning shrewdly. "And so _you're_ responsible for all the disturbances in the mountains?"

"The... _disturbances?_" Gandalf asked.

"The various orcs and goblins coming east of the mountains?" Beorn pointed out, looking at the company like they were all idiots. "Honestly, how have you not noticed this? They've been coming further and further east recently. It's like something's excited them. Even my _bees_ have noticed that something's wrong, and trust me when I say that they don't notice _anything_. Seriously, where _have_ you been?"

"West of the mountains," Thorin snapped, his temper rising. "And, on occasion, under them."

"'_Under them'?_"

So Thorin started telling Beorn of their adventure, omitting to mention what had happened to Kíli – or why they wanted to cross the Misty Mountains in the first place. He gave Beorn the barest detail of what had happened in the goblin tunnels, and when he reached the warg attack, his voice faltered. He didn't want to talk about that – not so soon after it had happened.

Beorn looked them over, clearly unimpressed.

"So that's it?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps you wouldn't mind filling in some gaps in your story. Firstly, you are yet to tell me the name of the Halfling."

"Bilbo," Bilbo snapped. "And I prefer the term 'hobbit' to 'Halfling.'"

Beorn nodded, as though he couldn't have cared less if he tried. "Secondly, what were you doing tonight that meant that the eagles thought to bring you here?"

"A group of orcs chased us from the mountains, with every intention of taking Thorin's head," Gandalf explained. "The leader of the company was the orc warlord, Azog."

"Isn't he meant to be dead?"

"That's what we thought," Gandalf smiled. "But he isn't, and is chasing Thorin for revenge over what happened to his hand. They had us trapped up a tree, but after starting a fire, and with the help of the eagles, we managed to escape."

"...Which explains why they brought you here," Beorn finished. "And thirdly, you said that fifteen of you left the Shire, yet there are only fourteen of you here. Can you simply not count?"

Thorin glared furiously at Beorn, but before he could answer, Gandalf cut in. "One of our company was captured and killed tonight. We'd prefer not to talk about it."

Something akin to sympathy flashed across Beorn's face. "I understand."

There was a moment of silence, before Beorn spoke again.

"You're not lying, I can see that – or at least, if you are, you're all incredibly _good_ liars. But you still haven't told me _why_ you thought it necessary to go through all that. Although I think I can guess, based on your company."

Thorin's glare intensified.

"_Please_ tell me that you're not going to try and reclaim the lost kingdom of Erebor..."

"And what if we are?" Thorin growled.

"I would strongly advise against it," Beorn said. "I've never understood your fascination with gold. It's simply a cold lump of shiny metal. And is it really worth _dying_ for? Just because a dragon hasn't been seen for a few decades does not mean that it's not still alive. And trust me – if Smaug is still alive, and you're within flying distance of him when he wakes, then you'll become an interesting new variety of cooked dwarf."

"That shows how much _you_ know!" Dwalin snapped, seemingly unable to restrain himself. "We aren't going there for the gold! We're going there because we don't have a home!"

Thorin silenced Dwalin with a look, before turning back to Beorn.

"Alright," the man said, looking mildly surprised by Dwalin's outburst. "I suppose that _is_ worth dying for."

And with that, he turned away. The company watched the light float away down the path, uncertain of what to do, before the light stopped, and then Beorn turned back to look at them.

"Well, are you coming in, or not?"

* * *

**A/N: Hello again everybody! The chemistry exam was alright, all the... ahem, **_**hard revision**_** paid off, despite the rest of the exams going so badly that I just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry... So yes, a new chapter! Something of a not-very-good filler that isn't really worth the wait, but I did need to get Beorn in somehow... So yes, plenty more angst and sadness and Fíli-being-lonely and Thorin-getting-annoyed-and-sad etc on the way!**


	13. Part 1 Chapter 13

13

Fíli had barely heard a word of the exchange between the rest of the company and Beorn. His whole brain had gone numb – it felt like his body was shutting down, only to be filled with an incessant buzzing that seemed to be a pathetic substitute for the emptiness that he felt. He barely noticed Oin and Gloin help him up off the floor and guide him into Beorn's house, before dropping him into a chair at the dining table that was the same height as he was.

"I only have two spare beds," Beorn said to Thorin. "If you plan on sleeping, which, assuming that everything you've told me is _true_, you are, then all I can offer you is the floor."

"We're quite used to sleeping on the floor," Thorin replied. "We are immensely grateful for your hospitality, and if there's anything we can do to repay you – "

"I'm going out tomorrow morning to see if your story's true," Beorn cut off Thorin. "I might be able to catch a stray orc and force the truth out of it. Should be fun."

Not for the first time, Thorin worried slightly about who Gandalf chose to trust. Beorn seemed... brutal. He treated his enemies much like orcs would, and though he hated the whole species, he couldn't help but draw comparisons between Beorn and orcs, and for the first time, he felt something – a fleeting spark of... he wouldn't call it _pity_, the race had condemned itself too far for him to feel that, but his hatred for orcs seemed to soften slightly, if only for a moment. To change the subject, he asked Beorn about something of great importance to himself and the rest of the company.

"Do you mind if we use your pantry?"

-:-

It was some fifteen minutes later that Bofur was handing out bowls of stew to his companions, all of whom were seated around the table. Nobody was really saying much, though whether out of exhaustion or thinking about the night's events, Bofur couldn't tell.

Fíli was staring at the space just in front of the table, tears silently streaming down his face. Bofur put a bowl down on the table in front of him, making sure it was directly in his line of sight, praying that somehow, Fíli would see it and forget his grief, if only momentarily, as it was eclipsed with the realisation of just how hungry he was.

But Fíli ignored it just as much as he had done the table. For all the attention he gave it, the bowl might not have been there at all.

Sighing with defeat, he put his own bowl down at the last remaining space, sitting down next to Bombur, who shrugged and tilted his head slightly. Nobody quite knew what to say, filling their mouths with food as opposed to empty meaningless words that wouldn't compensate for the huge oversight that they had all committed. _None_ of them had realised that it had been Kíli the goblins held prisoner in the Misty Mountains, a connection so blindingly obvious now that they wondered how they hadn't seen it before, and because of that, they all felt partially responsible for his fate.

But it hadn't been any of the company sitting there who had cut Azog's arm. Fíli could try and convince himself as much as he wanted that Azog was the guilty one, and yet he would never succeed. It had been Kíli who had made Azog drop him off the cliff. Azog had been right. Kíli had _left_ him willingly. Kíli had left his brother _knowing_ what it would do to him. And that abandonment was something he found very hard to forgive.

"Why would he do that?" Fíli choked out, his voice coming out as little more than a breathy, high-pitched croak. "Why would he just _leave_ me... alone?"

He didn't notice the dark looks cast around the table, as the company struggled to find an answer.

"He did it for me, didn't he?"

"Fíli..." Fíli looked up at his uncle, his eyes meeting with Thorin's with an unspoken, heartbreaking plea – all he was asking was for Thorin to deny what he had just said. Thorin paused for a moment, before trying to change the subject. "Fíli, you should eat something. I promise, you'll feel better for it."

Fíli gave an almost imperceptible start as he looked down, his eyes falling on the stew as though he had only just seen it.

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, _that's_ a lie and we all know it."

Fíli lifted the spoon, but his hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't even lower it to the bowl. It felt so _heavy_ in his hands. It was absurd – an hour ago he had been holding a sword to Azog's chest, a sword that he was going to drive into Azog's heart, with ease, and now he had been so sapped of strength by crippling loss that he could barely lift a _spoon._ It fell to the bowl with a clatter, and Fíli fell back against his chair, tilting his head backwards. He would _not_ lose whatever control he had left.

Rough hands hauled him out of his chair, before guiding him into another room. He barely registered his surprise at the fact that his legs were supporting his weight, before he tripped on the threshold of the next room. And that was all it took to send him over the edge.

-:-

"_Kíli, for the last time, _there are no orcs hiding under your bed_."_

_It was the middle of the night, and, once again, Kíli had woken up in tears, screaming about how the monsters were going to eat him, and that this was the night that they were going to get them, and yes, he knew that he said that every night, but _this_ time was different. He had actually felt them clawing at his blanket, dragging it away. And the fact that _should _a gang of orcs have been hiding under his bed, and had been for a while now, and they hadn't attacked him, or dragged him away, or indeed done anything at all to him, did nothing to comfort the six-year-old dwarfling. Fíli wouldn't have minded this so much, had it not been for the fact that they had gone through the same routine every night, consistently, for the past three months._

"_No!" Kíli protested, not exactly appreciating the fact that his suspicions were being completely ignored. "No, Fíli! I'm telling you that they're there!"_

"_Would you like me to check for you?" Fíli offered testily._

_There was a soft sniff, followed by a rustle as Kíli wrapped his blankets firmly around him, pressing his back against the wall, the protection offered by the thin sheet of fabric incomparable to anything else in Kíli's eyes, save for his mother, brother and uncle. Fíli knew the answer to his question, but wanted to delay that moment as much as possible. It was inevitable – he would get out of bed, he would light a candle, he would look under his brother's bed, he would ascertain the fact that there were no orcs or trolls or wargs or balrogs or whatever monster had featured in Kíli's nightmares that night, he would offer to _show_ Kíli this, Kíli would deny, too afraid to face the underside of his bed, he would blow the candle out, and he would spend the next twenty minutes trying to get back to sleep. The routine was the same every night. But he was so comfortable..._

_With an annoyed groan, the eleven-year-old pushed back the covers, and carried out the now-annoyingly-well-practised routine. _

"_Like I said, there is absolutely nothing under here to worry about," Fíli said exasperatedly._

"_Are... Are you sure?"_

"_Come and see for yourself."_

_What Fíli had _meant _to say was 'would you like to come and see for yourself?' but due to his exasperation and the fact that he had said the same thing so many nights before, he cut through several unnecessary words and didn't bother with the questioning tone. The result of this was that it came out as less of an offer and more of a command._

_Kíli fractionally eased himself away from the wall. He very cautiously slipped out of his bed, before tentatively crouching down next to Fíli to look under the bed._

_Sure enough, there were no orcs._

"_Oh..." Fíli covered his smirk at the embarrassed tone Kíli used. "They must have gone."_

"_They ran away when they heard me coming," Fíli grinned. "They're terrified of me, you understand."_

"_Oh..."_

_Fíli straightened up._

"_I was so scared that they were going to take me away..."_

"_Kíli," Fíli said seriously. "I promise you, I won't _ever_ let any orcs take you, or hurt you, or do anything bad to you. I'll _die_ before I let anything happen to you. I'll protect you, no matter what happens."_

"_Promise?"_

_Fíli nodded, meeting his brother's eyes. "Now can we _please_ go back to bed?"_

_Kíli looked remarkably relieved as he crawled under his blanket again as Fíli blew out the candle. There was a moment of silence after Fíli got back into his own bed, swearing that he would be more careful about what stories he allowed Dwalin to tell Kíli, but as he rolled over, Kíli spoke again._

"_Fíli?"_

"_Hm?"_

"_Can I sleep in your – "_

"_Absolutely not."_

-:-

Fíli made absolutely no attempt to break his fall. Thorin caught him just before he hit the ground, pulling him inside the room and shutting the door. Fíli stopped caring about anything except his incomprehensible failure. He had failed to protect his brother from his childhood nightmares, which he had promised to do. He lost control, sobbing uncontrollably as Thorin half-dragged, half-carried Fíli over to where a blanket and pillow had been laid out on the floor. Fíli clutched weakly at his uncle.

"It's all my fault..." he sobbed. "I shouldn't have let him go... I promised I would never leave him..."

Thorin pulled Fíli into a tight embrace, as Fíli buried his head in his shoulder. For a second, he was sixteen years old again, losing his father all over again, clutching to the closest thing that he had for a substitute as the walls of his world came crashing down, leaving him buried amongst the wreckage.

"It's all right," Thorin breathed, unable to keep his own emotions in check as tears cut tracks through the grime that streaked his face. "It wasn't your fault..."

"He was my _brother!_ He was everything to me!"

"I know..."

"Why would he _do_ that to me?" Fíli asked, and Thorin heard not only the grief but the hurt in his nephew's voice. "He knew what it would do to me, so _why_ did he do it?"

But Thorin had been asking himself the same question, and had come up with no answer. He dared not think about what Kíli must have endured at Azog's hands for him to _force_ somebody to drop him off a cliff. Kíli had always been the most optimistic person in the company, one of the only ones who had really _believed_ that they had a chance at retaking Erebor, as opposed to deluding himself like most of the rest of them, and to see his spirit so broken that he had seen no other option than to throw away his life like that so needlessly... It made no sense.

"I don't know, Fíli," Thorin finally breathed. "I really don't know..."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you as always for all the lovely reviews! So I was originally going to do the this chapter and the next chapter as one really long one, but I might have gotten a little carried away with Fíli's excessive sadness (sorry about that). So next chapter we might actually **_**get**_** somewhere in plot-terms! Also, sorry about the wait, full-time school has started, and that basically means that I now have no life.**


	14. Part 1 Chapter 14

14

Bilbo looked up as the door opened, and was startled to see Thorin walking out with his head bowed, looking... lost.

"Thorin, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Thorin muttered.

"You don't look it-"

"I said I'm fine, Master Baggins!" Thorin met with Bilbo's eyes, but Bilbo didn't see the anger there. He just saw sadness, as though something had broken inside him. He could see that Thorin had never _really_ come to terms with the loss of Kíli before that night. Thorin had simply buried his emotions, never facing them, ignoring them as he smothered his grief in his determination to reclaim Erebor. And now he was forced to face his grief, he seemed lost and uncertain.

Thorin suddenly turned away from Bilbo and towards the rest of the company.

"We should all get some sleep. It's been a long day, and we should get as much rest as we can – _while_ we can."

Thorin turned and entered the room which had two beds in it, where he and Gandalf would spend the night. Bilbo cast a puzzled look at the dwarves as they all got up and resolutely ignored the room that Thorin had just left. He could hear them arguing about where they were going to sleep, and who was going to get the spot by the window, and so on, which stopped when Dwalin, fed up with the constant bickering, shouted something about the fact that they were only blankets and pillows, and how it really wasn't that difficult to rearrange. Sighing, he looked over to the room where he knew the one remaining 'bed' was.

When he pushed the door open, Bilbo could see instantly why they could only fit two people in there. The room was more of a cupboard than anything else, and the shelves were lined with various books, papers, scrolls, and other things that didn't seem to fit anywhere else.

Fíli was lying under the blanket furthest from the door, making no attempt to control his ragged breathing or intermittent sobs. He didn't look up, or move, or indeed do anything to indicate that he had acknowledged Bilbo's presence.

Bilbo cast a pitying look at Fíli's trembling form, wishing that there was something that he could do to help, before settling down under his own blanket. It wasn't comfortable lying on the hard, wooden floor, but it wasn't that which kept the hobbit awake. He couldn't tune out Fíli's dry sobs, each of them grating his ears, a reminder of what they had lost that night.

As he blew out the candle, he drew his blanket up over his head so that Fíli wouldn't see him cover his ears to drown out the dwarf's grief.

* * *

Judging by the fact that it wasn't light, and just how tired he still was, Bilbo guessed it was sometime before dawn. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours, yet now he was wide awake. The scene of what had happened merely hours ago seemed burnt in his memory, and now it was tormenting his dreams.

His mind drifted back to something Thorin had said on the night that Kíli had been captured.

"_I have to get past the freshest memories of loss before I can remember the happy times."_

It was happening to him, and he knew it. He couldn't stop thinking about Kíli, despite the fact that his acquaintance with the dwarf was virtually non-existent compared to the rest of the company. And yet he had just woken up, his mind replaying Kíli's fall with sickening clarity.

He quietly slipped out of the room, and went out onto the patio. He could see that dawn was not far off, and already the inky black sky was lightening in the east. And then something else occurred to him.

Kíli's body was still out there.

The eagles certainly hadn't found him, or else Fíli would actually have something to bury – a chance to say goodbye. Beorn was very unlikely to find him, nobody actually having told him that the other member of the company had fallen off a cliff. Which left...

Azog.

Azog could _not_ find Kíli's body. That would just be too brutal. Whatever happened, he could _not _let Azog touch Kíli again. It had to be prevented, whatever it took.

His mind drifted back to earlier that night, and he could still hear Fíli's sobs as he fell asleep. He could see once again Fíli's despair as he was dropped on the ground by the eagles, begging to go back to where his brother had fallen. He could see Fíli fall to his knees as he saw his brother fall, losing him for a second time, mere minutes after getting him back again, before the cry of rage ripped itself from his throat as he did his best to punish Azog. Fíli deserved a chance to say goodbye to Kíli.

The sky had lightened without Bilbo noticing, so much so that he could now make out the silhouette of the cliff which he guessed they had stood on earlier that night. A plan started forming in his head – a dangerous, reckless plan which he would never have considered before he left Bag End, or even before...

He slipped his hand in his pocket, and drew out a simple gold ring that he had acquired the day before. It could be useful, in fact it would be instrumental to the success of this plan...

He made up his mind, and slipped the ring onto his finger.

* * *

Bofur's eyes flew open at a loud shout.

"ENOUGH!"

A pale yellow light was streaming into the room, and one of the first things he noticed was that apart from him, the room was completely deserted. He could only assume that everyone was next door, where the voice that he recognised as Thorin's continued to rant.

"I have had enough of your constant self-pity! Starving yourself is not going to change what happened last night! You are not the only person who has lost somebody!"

Curiosity got the better of Bofur, and he slipped next door to see Thorin standing over Fíli, shouting as the younger dwarf just sat there, looking completely unfazed by the storm unleashed upon him.

"We have _all_ lost a friend, Fíli!" Thorin continued. "I lost my nephew last night, and I'm _damned_ if I'm just going to let _you_ give up on me now! Don't you think that sometimes _I'd_ quite like to just shut myself off to the world? But I _can't!_ And neither can you! I've told you before, we don't _get _that luxury! I am still leader of this company, and we still have a quest to complete, regardless of the fact that we lost Kíli last night, and you are absolutely no good to me, or _anyone_ else around this table if you're half-starved!"

"I just... want him back," Fíli muttered.

"Oh, for goodness' _sake_," Thorin sighed. "Kíli's _dead!_ You saw what happened last night! He's dead, and starving yourself isn't going to change that! This isn't like before, where his fate was uncertain, where we didn't know what happened or whether he was alive or not! We both saw him fall, and _nobody_ could have survived that! Kíli... he wouldn't want you to waste away for him, so for the sake of his memory, if not your own, would you just _please_ eat something?"

Thorin knew, as soon as those words had left his mouth, that this argument would work, and he regretted not using it earlier as Fíli began to eat the plate of bacon, eggs, and various other products of Bombur's experiments with the pantry. Breathing a sigh of relief, the exiled king fell back into his chair, relishing the small victory.

Bofur sat down beside Bombur. "So what's for breakfast?" he smiled, doing his best to lighten the mood.

"Breakfast?" Ori grinned. "We had breakfast a _long_ time ago..."

"But it's barely sunrise..." Bofur pointed out of the window.

"Look again, brother," Bombur smiled. "The last time I checked, the sun rose in the _east._"

Bofur glanced out of the window again, only to notice that the sun was indeed behind the mountains.

"...Oh."

Nori snickered, only to be hit around the back of the head by Dwalin.

"So what time is it?"

"About half past five," Balin said.

"In the afternoon," Bifur added for good measure.

Bofur glared at his cousin, before noticing the absences of the company. "And where are Gandalf and Beorn?"

"Beorn has gone to confirm our story, and Gandalf went with him," Thorin explained.

"And Bilbo is still asleep?"

"We assume so."

"Nobody's actually been into his and Fíli's room to check," Gloin said.

"He wasn't in _my_ room," Fíli said unexpectedly.

"What?"

All eyes swivelled to Fíli, who looked uncertain at the sudden attention. "Nobody was in the room when I got up..."

His voice trailed off into uncomfortable silence.

"Well, where is he?" Dori asked, voicing the thoughts of all of those around the table.

Something seemed to break inside Thorin's head. He knew, instantly, that he wouldn't be able to cope with the loss of another member of the company – not now, so soon after losing Kíli.

He took a deep breath, determined to calm himself down. Just because Bilbo wasn't present in the house did not necessarily mean that he had gone and gotten himself killed somewhere. In fact, the chances of that were incredibly slim. He might have just decided to go with Gandalf and Beorn, or gone for a walk to get some fresh air and clear his head. He thought that the latter was more likely, but if that was the case then he'd been gone for at least five hours, given as how nobody had seen hide nor hair of him that day. Which meant that he had either lost track of time, or something more sinister had happened...

He could be lost. Or stuck somewhere. Despite all his appearances, and his cold outward demeanour, and his belief that Bilbo didn't belong amongst them, (a belief that he couldn't shake off completely,) he had really begun to care for the hobbit. And the loss of _any_ member of the company now would hurt him more than he cared to think about.

"We don't _know_ that anything has happened to him," Bombur said reasonably. "He could have just... gone to explore the gardens."

There was a moment of silence, during which everyone sitting around the table knew that nobody felt reassured by those words, Bombur included.

"I think we should look for him."

* * *

He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was conscious. Or at least, he could form thoughts. What that meant, he did not know.

He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was cold. A bitter wind was blowing against him, and the extremities of his body felt numb.

_My body._

That meant that he was alive. He didn't know whether to be delighted or despairing. If he was alive, that meant that he could hurt, but it also meant that there was a chance that he could see his brother again.

_Fíli._

All at once, memories of what had happened came flooding back to him. The chase, his capture, his torment, and then the fight at the top of the cliff. Seeing Fíli again, before...

He became aware of the aching pain spreading across his body, burning through him from his right hand. Quite how he'd survived the fall was a mystery to him – he hadn't expected to. He'd simply expected to die, so that he could finally take back control over his life. So he could die on his terms. So that Azog couldn't hurt him anymore...

_No. Don't think about that. Think about something else._

He wrenched his eyes open, and winced at the bright sunlight that shone across his face. When his eyes had grown accustomed to the light, through blurred vision he could see a canopy of green above him, broken up by patches of light. It took him longer than he would later admit to realise that he was looking up at a cluster of trees.

Why was it so cold?

He just lay there, in the contorted position that he'd landed in, feeling the blood soak into his ripped shirt, the fire burning through his body at complete odds to the cold that bit at his face. He'd only wanted to prove himself, to actually _help_ for a change, but it had gone so, _so_ wrong. And so he lay there, waiting for death.

_It will come._

Why couldn't it hurry up?

He didn't want to be found until after he was dead. He only had a short amount of time for this world anyway, but if he was found, then he had no doubt that they would put him through more pain. And that was something he couldn't take. Yet at the same time, he couldn't get the sight of his brother's face out of his mind. He wondered what had happened to him, he wondered if his brother had escaped...

_Do I really _want_ to die?_

A shadow appeared across the strip of light that had crept upon his face. He flinched. They had found him, they had found him and they would hurt him until he had finally lost all semblance of pride, all desire to cling onto life.

Why couldn't he have died when he'd hit the ground?

* * *

Bilbo was really beginning to regret his decision to leave Beorn's house at the crack of dawn. He could see now that it had been an absolutely hopeless endeavour. There hadn't ever _really_ been any hope of finding Kíli's body. But the more Tookish part of him dominated, and he had gone and searched anyway.

He pulled the ring off his finger. He'd only really worn it because, should he have come across something unpleasant, he would have the protection of the fact that they couldn't see him. Invisibility was incredibly useful during times like these. But now, as he pulled it off, the world seemed to darken slightly, and he looked around.

He had been following a river that had been flowing towards Beorn's house, because some small, sensible part of his brain (not dominated by what he now deemed 'Tookish stupidity') had told him that at least if he followed a river, should he get lost and decide to turn back, he could always follow the river back to familiar territory. At the time, he had thought it would lead him back to the base of the cliff where Kíli had fallen, but if that _was_ what it was doing, it seemed to be taking the scenic route.

He had come to the start of a forest, and as far as he could tell, the river was winding north, before being obscured by trees. He had two choices – either he could turn back now, or he could follow it until it became too dark to see anything, and then start going back then. He'd been walking most of the day, and the sun was setting. There couldn't be more than fifteen minutes of daylight left, and what was he _realistically_ going to accomplish in fifteen minutes? He cast a final regretful look up the river –

And then he saw it.

A boot, on the other bank, was sticking out from behind a rock. In the dim light, he had barely seen it, but now that he looked, he was _certain_ it was there.

He crept along the riverbank, hardly daring to hope.

Bilbo's eyes fell shut at the sight of Kíli's body, but the damage was done – the image was burnt in his mind. Bruises mottled his skin, and what little of his face that was not purple was instead white. It looked translucent, and for a minute, Bilbo had the impression that he wasn't looking at Kíli's face at all, but instead a skull. His clothes were so torn that the hobbit was surprised they had stayed on the dwarf's body, looking more like poorly-cut strips of material than a shirt and leggings. The more recent of the cuts that marred Kíli's chest and face, given to him from the warg attack, looked as though they were still bleeding, in addition to several other wounds. His leg was sticking out at an odd angle, and his burnt arm looked no better in daylight than it had done the night before. It was clear that some form of infection was setting in, going by the red flushes of skin up his arm, and though he was no expert on medicines, Bilbo knew immediately that it was something bad.

Bilbo let out a sigh of sadness, as pity struck him. True, he was less than two-thirds Kíli's age, but Kíli was (as far as he'd worked out during his time with the company) incredibly young, by dwarf standards. He couldn't bear the thought that one who had only recently come of age had gone through so much suffering.

"No..." a voice breathed, so quietly that Bilbo thought he'd imagined it. "No..."

The hobbit's eyes flew open. Kíli's face was contorted in pain, and even in the vanishing light, Bilbo saw the dwarf's mouth move, forming words.

"No... Please... Azog... No..."

For a second, Bilbo just stared at him in shock. It couldn't be... It had been too much to hope that he'd actually found Kíli's _body_, and even more so that somehow, as luck, or fate, or whatever force governed the world would have it, Kíli would land in the one place that would ensure that he would survive a fall of that nature. The chances of that were so small... it was_ impossible..._

"Please..." A note of desperation crept into Kíli's voice – or as much as could creep into something that was barely more than him exhaling.

A smile broke out of Bilbo's face. It was all he could do to stop himself laughing. Somehow, through more luck than Bilbo thought could exist, Kíli was _alive._

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it! It wasn't Beorn who found him (as I think a few of you thought was going to happen), it was the little guy! (Because I wanted to have Bilbo earn the respect of the company in a way that wasn't in either the book or the film.) As per usual, thank you all for the lovely reviews! Also, **_**please**_** don't think too badly of Thorin for shouting at Fíli. He just isn't all that well equipped in the dealing-with-emotions department, and I **_**really**_** wanted to have him lose control at one point. On a different note, I'm going with the fact that Bifur can in fact speak Westron, because he speaks in the book, and I'm **_**dreadful**_** when it comes to throwing in other languages into stories. **

**Now, for those of you who are worried that this story might be drawing to a close, it really... **_**really**_** isn't. The story will span the entire book, occasionally fast-forwarding through various parts which, while important to the book itself, are not completely necessary to **_**this**_** particular story. But trust me when I say I'm not done yet...**


	15. Part 1 Chapter 15

15

Bilbo did everything he could to savour the moment.

_He's alive!_

It echoed around his head as a mantra, fuelling his happiness. Even after everything that dwarf went through, Kíli still stubbornly refused to die. He refused to let Azog win. He was clinging onto life on the opposite bank –

Then the penny dropped.

There were two very big problems to overcome – or at least one smaller problem and one very large problem. The first, smaller problem was that Kíli was on the opposite bank – and Bilbo had no clear way of reaching him. He had passed a bridge near Beorn's house, but that was a six-hour walk at least to _get_ there, and another six hours back. The second, altogether more significant problem was that he had no idea how to get Kíli back to the others. Kíli, though altogether a more preferable burden than, say, Bombur, was nonetheless a burden that he didn't have the strength to bear.

He really should have thought this through. Or perhaps he had, but the 'Baggins' side had pointed out that the chances of needing to think this part of his plan through were minimal.

Nonetheless, he needed to try.

He thought back to his first problem – how to _get_ to Kíli in the first place. He could, of course, attempt to swim across the river, but he really wasn't that strong a swimmer, and the current would not help. Even here it was flowing fast in the direction he had just walked...

_In the direction I've just walked..._

It clicked. The solution was absurdly simple. The source of his first problem was the answer to his second. He could use the river. It wouldn't take him straight to the house itself, but it would take him near enough so that _he_ only needed to carry Kíli a short distance. Quite _how_ he could use the river was still a riddle that needed to be solved, but nonetheless, he _could_ use it.

That still left the problem of _getting_ to Kíli in the first place.

If he could find a large enough branch that had fallen from a tree, that would be ideal. He could use that to help him across the river. And then, he could use the branch to keep both himself and Kíli out of the water as they floated down the river, and all he would have to do was make sure that they didn't crash into any rocks, and get out at a suitable time.

Of course, that plan hinged almost entirely on finding a broken branch.

Always trying to keep Kíli in his sight so that he could get back to him, he started scanning the ground for a piece of wood suitable. He wandered slightly upstream, before he came to a log. His spirits leapt, but it was too heavy for him to move. Bilbo let out a series of curses that the vast majority of the Shire would have been horrified to hear.

"Oh, for goodness' sake! There was a storm here about a week ago, how hard can it be to find a broken branch in a _forest?_"

His eyes fell on another, but upon finding that one trapped under a pile of rocks, he lost all hope of finding one. At least, he lost hope of finding one before Kíli was beyond aid. When the dwarf across the river let out a pitiful whimper of pain, he nearly screamed. He should have known it was too good to be true, but he couldn't just give up – not now that he was so close.

And then his eyes fell on a tree that had been blown over by the wind.

Relief crashed over him, and a smile broke over his face. He could break off a suitably sized log from the tree and use that.

He ran over towards the tree, before clambering over it, searching for a suitable branch. His eyes lit up when he saw one that was perfect. It was small and quite thin, breaking off into a 'V,' before simply becoming a mass of twigs and leaves. He put his foot down on the base of the branch, and pulled it back...

The branch simply refused to bend.

Bilbo stamped on it in frustration. _Why is nothing ever easy?_ He sat down on the log, and ran his hands through his hair. His eyes absently followed the lines on the sheath of his little sword as he struggled to come up with another plan –

He had his little sword with him.

True, it wasn't exactly designed for cutting trees, but it was all he had. He drew it, relieved that it wasn't glowing blue like it had done in the goblin tunnels, or indeed atop the cliff. Bilbo recognised that it would be useless to attempt to saw the branch off with his sword, so he raised it high above his head, and brought it down on the branch. The wood splintered, but didn't break. He tried again, and again, and again, until finally the branch broke off.

Bilbo let out a slightly hysterical laugh as he picked up the branch, dragging it back to the riverbank. But he started to doubt his plan. Would the branch be enough to support both his weight and Kíli's? What would happen if he didn't get out of the river at the right point? How would he get Kíli back to the house from the river?

He forced all his doubts to the back of his mind. He couldn't give up now. He could only hope that this would work.

* * *

"So what caused our esteemed leader's outburst earlier this evening?" Bofur asked. It had been some three hours since they'd established that Bilbo was missing, and nobody had seen any sign of him. After some time of searching as a group, Thorin had given the order to split up into pairs, so that they could cover a wider distance in a shorter time. Bofur had teamed up with Bombur, and while their minds had originally been on the task, it wasn't entirely after three hours with no results they were really beginning to lose hope. Yet while most of the others had all gone back to the house, Bofur and Bombur chose to continue searching, having gone around in a large circle, and were going back in the vague direction of the house, and they had decided that they would continue to do so until Bilbo had been found. They had already lost enough recently, and they stubbornly refused to accept that they had lost a second member of the company.

"Grief," Bombur answered shortly.

Bofur waited for a minute to see if his brother would expand on the monosyllabic answer, as Bombur knew that it wasn't the explanation that Bofur had asked for.

"I don't think that Thorin took Kíli's death very well," Bombur said at length. "I don't think he really accepted that Kíli was dead when he saw the pony in Rivendell. I think he knew that there was a chance that something like this had happened, but he never bothered to contemplate that possibility, because it was much easier to ignore it."

"I don't think any of us really accepted it," Bofur sighed. "It just seemed too... unreal for us to lose _Kíli_ of all people."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I... I just... I couldn't understand it. Kíli was the youngest of us – he was _barely_ of age! Fíli had it right on the cliff-top. He was a child. He didn't deserve this. He was the last person in the company who deserved to suffer that way! He was the one who kept the company happy! He was the one that kept us hoping!"

A ringing silence fell between them, and both were thinking exactly the same thing – what would happen if either lost the other? Would they seek revenge like Fíli had done in the mountains? Or would they close themselves off to the world, a ghost of the people they once were?

"Maybe hope has no place in this journey..." Bombur concluded quietly.

Bofur roughly grabbed Bombur's arm. "Don't you... _dare..._ say that!" he hissed. "Kíli was not our hope! Thorin is! And while he's still alive, then there's hope for us all yet! So we lost a friend last night, but that doesn't mean to say that this quest is doomed! Now, I'm not going back to the house until we find Bilbo, but if _you_ want to give up, then fine! But if you do, then you might as well go back to the Blue Mountains! We swore an oath to Thorin that we would do our utmost to help the company in any way that we can, but if you lose heart at the first sign of trouble, then how are you going to help take back the Mountain where the odds are stacked against us? Do you want to know _why_ Kíli always thought that there was a very real chance of taking back Erebor? Because he would never give up hope of something succeeding, no matter how far-fetched and dangerous the plan was, until it had all but failed! It was one of the greatest assets of his character, and it was something that served him well. And it served us well, too!"

Bombur stared at Bofur for a minute, as though suddenly seeing him in a whole new light.

"You don't think he's dead."

"Do you?"

Bombur sighed at the aggressive tone. "Bofur, until last night, I might have agreed with you. Kíli was a fighter, and we had absolutely no idea about what happened to him. But last night... he couldn't have survived that."

"When did _you_ become so pessimistic? Bombur, it was _his_ decision! When Kíli does something like that, it's usually part of a scheme that he has! It may be a stupid, impulsive scheme, but it's always part of a bigger plan! He wouldn't have done something like that unless he thought he was going to walk away from it!"

"Plans can go wrong, Bofur..."

"Then why..." Bofur growled out, "would he have _done it?_"

"I don't think his plan was one that he wanted to walk away from," Bombur sighed. "Or at least, I think he was fairly indifferent either way. I think his plan was to get away from Azog, to escape that life, whatever the cost."

To this, Bofur had no answer. He fell into a sullen silence, neither of them having noticed that they'd stopped. However, something broke the silence – a voice, somewhere not very far from where they were standing, seemed to be getting rather frustrated.

"...Yes, I _know _you want him, but I can't go and _get_ him if you don't let me go!"

Bofur and Bombur cast each other a glance, before deciding to go and investigate.

-:-

The journey down the river had not been fun for either party. Kíli, who had been cold beforehand, after his first attempt down the river, now found that the parts of his body not burning with pain were numb – not that he could concentrate on much beyond the veil of agony that every slight movement or jostle caused him.

Bilbo was also feeling the effects of the cold, though not nearly as acutely as he was feeling the effects of breaking a branch off a tree with what was little more than a glorified knife, dragging said branch over to a river, then hauling a half-dead dwarf out of a raging current an hour later while his whole body screamed in protest. His muscles ached, he was colder than he had ever been in his life, including during the storm on the mountain pass, and he was now struggling to reason with Kíli, who had grasped onto his shirt and refused to relinquish it.

"Kíli, I... I won't be long. I'll just go and get-"

"No! Please don't go! Please, don't leave me!"

"Do you want me to get Fíli, or not?"

"Fíli..." Kíli gasped, as he began to shiver. "Fíli..."

Bilbo glanced down at the hand that gripped his shirt, resisting the urge to sigh. This had essentially been the conversation he'd been having for the past twenty minutes, on the side of the river, trying and failing to get anywhere.

"Look, the house is about five minutes away if I run, which means I'll be back in ten-"

"Bilbo?"

Bilbo had never been more happy to hear Bombur's voice. He turned around, his face splitting into a smile of relief as he caught sight of Bofur and his brother, which was mirrored on both dwarves' faces. Their smiles, however, fell into expressions of shock as they saw who he'd been talking to.

"Bofur! Bombur! I am _so_ glad to see you both!" Bilbo resolutely ignored the state of utter surprise that they were in. "Please, could one of you go and find Fíli?"

When this elicited no reaction from either of them, he waved his hand. "Please?"

Bombur gave the slightest jerk of the head, before turning and sprinting into the darkness.

"W... Wha... What... What _happened?_" Bofur finally managed to splutter out.

"Well, I couldn't sleep last night, because I could barely stop thinking about what happened at the top of the cliff, something came back to me that Thorin said that night in Rivendell, and goodness knows what I was thinking because I decided to go on what was pretty much a hunt for a needle in a haystack and decided to look for Kíli's body. Only I found Kíli, alive – turns out he'd landed in a _river_, which is remarkable, really, and it carried him downstream. I happened to choose that very river to follow, and found him some way upstream. To get him back to here, I got hold of a branch, used that as a makeshift raft, and took a very uncomfortable journey back, where Kíli has been resolutely refusing to let me go and get anybody to help, which brings us back to where you came and found us."

How much of this Bofur actually registered, Bilbo didn't know, because Bofur was focused on Kíli, and couldn't get past the pained expression on Kíli's face as he clutched at the waistcoat.

"Is he alright?"

A soft whimper escaped Kíli's lips, and Bofur felt a stab of pity. Kíli really _didn't_ deserve this.

"That leg looks broken..."

"I know," Bilbo sighed, and Bofur saw the strain that the hobbit had quite clearly put himself under. He placed a reassuring hand on Bilbo's shoulder and crouched down next to the pair.

"I _knew_ he'd make it," Bofur said, unable to conceal the broad grin spreading across his face, his voice low with excitement. "I _knew_ he'd survive. Kíli... he wouldn't give up on life. Not unless Fíli had, too. He'd keep holding on while Fíli still lived. He'd defy odds – he'd find a way to make it."

Bilbo looked up at Bofur, who just seemed unable to stop smiling. "What about now?" Bilbo asked, his voice cracking. "Just... look at him."

"Yes, but he'll _fight_. He won't let death take him easily. He'll come back from this. You'll see."

Bilbo sighed, unable to look at Kíli with the same hope in his eyes as Bofur did. "I... _really_ hope you're right..."

"KÍLI!"

Bilbo gave a start, and moved swiftly out of the way as Fíli came hurtling towards them, a desperate panic in his eyes. He'd sprinted most of the way from the house once Bombur had told him that Kíli was alive and the vague location of where he was, and gave absolutely no regard to Bilbo or Bofur as he knelt by his brother's side.

"Kíli!" he gasped weakly, kneeling over him and brushing the wet locks of hair off Kíli's face. "Kíli, you're _alive!_"

Kíli immediately relinquished his hold on Bilbo's waistcoat, instead reaching his trembling arm up and brushing Fíli's hand.

"Fíli," he breathed desperately. "Fíli, is it..."

Fíli nodded. "Yes, it's me," he smiled, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he pulled Kíli onto his lap, cradling his body carefully in his arms. "I'm right here... It's alright, you're safe now..."

"Fíli, I'm so cold..."

Fíli hastily unfastened the cloak draped around his own shoulders with one hand, before wrapping it around Kíli's shaking frame. While he did so, his eyes fell on Kíli's burnt hand, and his breath caught in his throat as he struggled to take in the injury. Tears broke free from his eyes, carving silver tracks down his face as he struggled to comprehend seeing his brother so broken as he was then.

"Oh, Kíli, what's that monster _done_ to you?"

Kíli gave a soft hiccough as he followed his brother's gaze. His eyes filled with tears as he tried and failed to put his hand out of sight beneath the cloak. "Fíli... I'm sorry, I'm so, _so_ sorry..."

"You have no _reason_ to be sorry-"

"I do!" Kíli sobbed. "I failed you! I failed _everyone!_"

"Kíli, you're not thinking straight," Fíli gave his brother a weak smile. "We'll get you back to the house, and everything will be alright..."

"No, it won't!" Kíli lapsed into a coughing fit, every movement sending spasms of pain throughout his body. "He... He wants... He wants to take Erebor!"

Fíli wasn't sure what his brother was talking about, almost certain that Kíli wasn't, either. He realised then that they _had_ to get Kíli to Beorn's house as soon as possible – he needed medical help more than anything, so when Kíli had recovered from his coughing fit, Fíli slipped an arm underneath his knees and lifted him up.

A cry of pain ripped itself from Kíli's throat as agony shot through his body at the movement. The trips down the river, both with Bilbo and without, had taken their toll on him, in addition to the impact as he'd hit the water – certainly, the river had broken his fall, and had almost certainly saved his life, but he'd still hit the bottom painfully, and it was only the current pulling him up that had saved him. This, in addition to the injuries sustained at the hands of Azog and his company, meant that even the slightest movement, such as breathing, was not without pain, and such a drastic movement as picking him up made his head swim. Blackness started clouding his vision, but he _had_ to stay conscious. Fíli was here, and after so long apart from his brother, he wasn't going to waste what he knew could very well be the last chance he had to be with him.

He didn't remember much of the journey to the house – it seemed to simultaneously last mere seconds and countless years, between the blanket of pain that covered him every second he was conscious, and the occasional lapses into a state where he wasn't. All of a sudden, though, the movement stopped, and he was being laid down on a bed which felt impossibly comfortable, while there was a flurry of voices around him.

Fíli ignored all the cries of "He's _alive!_" which were mingled with various other exclamations involving everyone and everything from Mahal to Durin to Nori's braids as he appeared through Beorn's front door, clutching Kíli in his arms. Instead, he sought out Oin, who rushed straight to his side as soon as the old dwarf registered whom it was Fíli was carrying, and one of the only two members of the company still out looking for Bilbo.

"Put him in Thorin's bed," Oin ordered almost immediately as he saw the state Kíli was in. "I'll examine him properly there."

"Won't Thorin mind?" Fíli asked, still looking for the absent leader.

"We'll deal with that when it arises. Right now, you need to get him somewhere where I can do my work. Otherwise, and I'm not going to sugar-coat it, he _will_ die."

"Somebody should go and get Thorin..." Fíli muttered absently, as he followed Oin into Thorin and Gandalf's room, hearing somebody reply before leaving by the door he'd just entered from.

As he laid Kíli down, his breath caught in his throat as the firelight threw Kíli's injuries into sharp relief. Oin immediately took up his burnt arm, and let out a violent curse in Khuzdul.

"What is it?" Fíli asked, unable to hide his alarm. "What's wrong?"

"His arm has become seriously infected, probably due to a lack of medical attention after he got these burns,which has led to sepsis. I don't know whether it's beyond treatment, but the chances are that we'll need our wizard to help him."

"And where _is_ our wizard?"

"How am I supposed to know?" Oin snapped. "I'm not your personal wizard monitor!"

Oin turned back to Kíli, this time examining the scratches across Kíli's face and torso.

"Could you please go and get my bag?"

Fíli nodded, squeezing his brother's good hand reassuringly before running into the next room, frantically searching for Oin's pack, completely failing to notice the other occupant of the room.

"Fíli, are you alright?"

Fíli flatly ignored Dwalin, his eyes roving the room quickly, jumping from surface to surface as he became increasingly desperate. His hands crawled manically over every single object in reach.

Dwalin sighed, the younger dwarf's response not entirely unexpected. "What are you looking for?"

"Oin's bag," Fíli muttered breathlessly, fear rising in his chest. "Dwalin, have you seen Oin's bag?"

Dwalin looked down at Fíli with pity, as he saw the sheer desperation in his eyes.

"DWALIN!"

Dwalin blinked in mild surprise, before pointing to a grey pack behind the door. Fíli rushed past him, grabbing the bag as he was about to leave.

"Fíli?" Dwalin called.

Fíli's stride faltered, but he didn't stop.

"Fíli, if there's anything I can do... just ask."

Fíli shook his head. "Unless you can change the past, Dwalin... I don't think there's anything you _can_ do..."

-:-

Thorin burst through the front door, his heart pounding in his chest. Half of him was desperate to see Kíli, to confirm that what Nori had told him was the truth, and half of him dreaded to see the state his nephew was in. Like Fíli had done before him, he ignored everybody else, crossing the dining room and, without thinking, he ran into the room where he knew Kíli was.

He wished he hadn't.

He wished he'd taken some time to brace himself for what he might have found on his bed. Maybe a minute or two, just to remind himself that Kíli had been through a lot recently, and wasn't going to come back from it looking normal, maybe with his signature smile on his face, or else hugging his brother, or perhaps simply sleeping. He should have taken a minute to remind himself of that. Or an hour. Or a day. And then he realised that nothing – _nothing – _ could have prepared him for what he saw.

Kíli was lying on the bed, a sheen of sweat coating his face. His wrecked shirt had been disposed of, and the gashes he'd received from the warg attack were still bleeding, meaning that sheet, blanket and pillow were stained red with blood that still hadn't dried. Thorin simply stood, staring in horror. He couldn't stand seeing Kíli like this – _Kíli_ of all people – he couldn't bear the sight of his nephew brought so low, he had to get out...

He turned and, though he could hardly bear to admit it, he fled from the room.

He leant back against the door, breathing hard. He was torn. Part of him wanted to hide away in shame that he could ever let something like this happen to any of his comrades – least of all Kíli – under his leadership. He should have been the one to keep him safe, and yet he had let him go off and get himself captured, and perhaps worst of all – he had done nothing to help him until it was too late. The memory of his actions, in light of what they had caused, made him feel sick. And then part of him – a far more powerful and vengeful part – wanted to chase after Azog, to hunt him down and torture the monster so that Azog knew the true meaning of pain.

A cry of agony from the room tore through his confusion. He couldn't go and hide, or hunt down something that could be anywhere – he should be in that room, trying to make amends for what Azog had done, what _he'd_ done to his nephew. He took a deep breath, and walked back inside.

-:-

"Please... I really don't think I can do this..."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

"I don't think I can hurt him..."

"It'll hurt him more if you don't. Now, on three. One... two..."

Fíli flinched violently, and his hands flew off Kíli's broken leg. He'd seen somebody set a bone before – Oin and Dís had once set his own arm after he'd broken it falling off a table and landing awkwardly, and he couldn't forget the pain that he'd felt as they'd set the angle of his bone right. Or more accurately, he couldn't forget the _level_ of pain, as opposed to the pain itself. Oin was no more patient now than he was back on that occasion.

"Fíli!" Oin snapped.

Kíli's breathing was becoming more and more ragged with every passing moment, as the fire burning through his body was reaching the point where it would soon be past his endurance levels.

"I don't see why he needs to be conscious for this..."

"Because, as I've told you before, he's lost too much blood. I don't want to give him something that will make him drowsy, because it could put him in a coma, and I don't want to wait any longer to do this because it will only do more harm than good."

"But I can't bear to hurt him! Hasn't he suffered enough?"

"PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP!" Kíli suddenly cried out, tears adding to the layer of moisture coating his face.

Fíli was at his side in an instant, ignoring Thorin's re-entry into the room.

"Thorin, can you please help?" Oin asked.

"What are you trying to do?"

"I need to set Kíli's leg, but Fíli won't help me because he says that he can't cause Kíli more pain, and I need you to make sure that he doesn't move his leg while I'm realigning it."

"So you want me to hold him down?"

"Actually, could you hold his leg slightly in the air so that I can move it in any direction necessary?"

Thorin nodded, his face grim. It had to be done, but he understood Fíli's reluctance to do it – he _shared_ in that reluctance.

"Fíli," Thorin said. "Could you please try and distract Kíli from this? Just try and take his mind off... off..." He wanted to say '_the pain_' but he sensed that would be a tall order.

"His leg," Oin supplied.

Kíli wasn't at all focused on what was going on around him. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, to fall into blissful oblivion where the pain he was feeling was a world away, but every time he shut his eyes, Fíli would beg him to stay. When this next happened, he found that he could pick out more voices.

"Come on, Kíli, I know it's hard, but _please_ stay awake for me!"

Kíli felt Fíli's hands around his right hand.

"Look..." Fíli was saying. "Do you... Do you remember when I first started training? You were so upset that I got to train before you, so you followed us down to the field..."

Dimly, Kíli heard another voice in the background.

"_Ready? Then on three..."_

"Thorin was so angry when you appeared on the field next to me, about a quarter of his height, looking up at him expectantly as though he was about to give you a sword..."

"_One..."_

"But you refused to go home, so he gave you a training bow and blunt arrows, and told you to go and practise on a tree..."

"_Two..."_

"You spent the whole day trying to figure out how to shoot the arrow, and by the time we were done, we were so proud of you for actually succeeding to make the arrow fly a few feet, even though you missed the tree by a mile..."

"_THREE!"_

Agony exploded just below Kíli's knee as a crack echoed around the room. His back arched away from the bed as he let out a scream that tore through any and every defence that Fíli had set up against such things. He could feel bone grinding against bone as Oin struggled to set it – to find the place where the lower half of his leg should be, blindly fitting a jigsaw. He tried to pull his leg away, to stop them from causing him more pain, but something held it firm. His voice cracked, but he continued to scream, though there was no sound emitted. He had nothing left to give.

"Do you remember that, Kíli?"

Kíli's eyes fluttered open, though he was unaware of ever having shut them, and he looked up at his brother. Fíli's face was sparkled with tears. The pain seemed to have stopped, and though he wasn't aware of it, Oin was fitting splints around the break, so that Kíli wouldn't accidentally knock it back out of place.

"I can't take this anymore..." Kíli said with a shuddering breath. "_Please..._ can I...?"

Fíli glanced up at Oin, who sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Yes..." Fíli smiled. "You can sleep now."

* * *

**A/N: Ok, first off – apologies about the delay, this chapter would have been up sooner (probably) if it hadn't been for the fact that I had to rewrite the entirety of my English coursework... *deep, calming breath...* I hope that the length makes up for it. While I'm apologising, I'd also like to apologise for any medical anomalies in this chapter. I am not a biology student. My thanks to Feathered Filly, who came up with the idea of Kíli getting sepsis in addition to everything else, and I just can't seem to put our dear dwarf through enough pain for me to be satisfied. However, if there **_**are**_** any biology/medical students out there who have noticed anything inaccurate about my depiction of any medical condition, then please, PLEASE tell me and I will go and correct it. Wikipedia was my main source of knowledge, but it has been known to lie to me before now.**

**Also, on a side-note: somebody PMed me, asking if this was meant to be slash. The answer is that I'm not writing it as such, and am mostly basing Fíli and Kíli's relationship on a cross between Frodo and Sam's and Merry and Pippin's, which I can be pretty certain were not written as slash. **


	16. Part 1 Chapter 16

16

Thorin let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding as Kíli's eyes fell shut and his nephew fell into a peaceful oblivion. Oin caught his eye, before flicking his gaze downwards towards Kíli's burnt arm. Thorin understood the unspoken message, and put his hand on Fíli's shoulder.

"Come on, Fíli," he murmured.

Fíli tried to shake Thorin off, but to no avail.

"Come on, Fíli, you don't need to see this."

Fíli looked for a long moment at Kíli's still form, before he reluctantly suffered himself to be led out of the room. The door fell shut behind them with a snap, and Fíli almost immediately pulled himself free of Thorin's grip. He ignored all the others in the dining room, practically running through the door through which his things were, determinedly not looking at Thorin.

The exiled king, however, had more important things on his mind than his nephew's antics. Instead, his eyes sought out Bilbo, who was still dressed in his sodden clothes, eating a bowl of stew, surrounded by the others. All of them were looking somewhat distraught – the absence of the sight of what had occurred in the adjacent room could hardly have provided much comfort to the sound of the cries that had accompanied it.

"Come with me," Thorin all but snarled.

Bilbo looked up, alarmed.

"Thorin," Balin cut in, noticing Bilbo's obvious discomfort. "He just-"

"I know what he just did," Thorin snapped, turning his temper on his old friend. "He ran off into the blue on a wild goose chase without a word to anyone. For all we knew he could have gone back to his hole, or he could have been lying dead somewhere. We had no idea of his intentions, and should the latter have occurred, we would have had no idea where to start looking for his body. His actions could have jeopardised the whole quest."

Bilbo blinked, puzzled. Truth be told, he was a little afraid of Thorin's temper. Yet nobody else challenged Thorin, so he had very little choice but to follow him out onto the veranda.

"What..." Thorin snapped, "were... you... _thinking?_"

Bilbo opened his mouth to answer, but before any words would form on his tongue, Thorin continued.

"You led us on a merry hunt into some unknown region! You had absolutely no _idea_ what lay out there, and yet you ploughed on, running out into the wilds without a thought for your own safety, looking for something that by rights you never should have found! Did you not give a thought to what we might have done once we realised you were missing? We spent _three hours_ looking for you, because you didn't bother to tell us what you were planning! What if you _had_ been killed by whatever foul beasts roam these lands? What if they had used you as bait to lure the rest of this company to wherever you had met your end? Did you give any thought to what would have happened then?"

Indignation flared up inside Bilbo. He had taken precautions regarding his safety – he had followed the river, to ensure that he didn't get lost, he had taken his ring, and his sword, and yet Thorin was lecturing him about being excessively stupid.

"Why did you do it?" Thorin asked, his tone hardening with every word.

Bilbo sighed. "I did it because I wanted the company... Fíli... to get a chance to say goodbye. I guess I didn't want the last memory for everyone to have of him was what happened last night... Fíli deserved a chance to see him again, and I only wanted to help."

"So why didn't you tell us? We could have helped!"

"I... I didn't want to get people's hopes up, only to have them crushed should I fail. Like you said, by rights I should never have found Kíli. I'm aware of the fact that it was pure luck that I did."

Thorin let out an undignified snort. "You're an idiot. Both you and Kíli... are complete idiots..."

Bilbo looked down at the floor, feeling slightly ashamed. He'd only tried to do what he believed to be right, and Thorin was belittling him. It seemed that no matter what he did, Thorin would never accept him into the company, look upon him as an equal.

"...And for that," Thorin continued, "I am eternally grateful."

Bilbo raised his head, this time looking directly into Thorin's eyes, unsure if he'd heard correctly. Thorin was smiling warmly at him.

"You managed to achieve the impossible," Thorin said, half-laughing as the truth dawned upon him. "You brought back Kíli – _alive!_ I cannot thank you enough. The line of Durin owes you his life. We are forever in your debt."

"Erm..." Bilbo cast around for something to say. "You're... You're welcome. I – Well, like I said, I – Well, I couldn't have just stood by and-"

Bilbo was saved from further needless rambling by the door opening very suddenly, causing both himself and Thorin to jump as Oin stuck his head out.

"Thorin, can I have a word?"

-:-

Bilbo followed Thorin back inside to the dining room, which was now empty, save for Balin. Not that Bilbo noticed. He was more intent on finding some dry clothes, and thinking over what Thorin had said.

"_The line of Durin owes you his life."_

He wasn't sure that he particularly _wanted_ anybody to owe him a life, and he certainly wasn't sure what it would mean in the future. He didn't think he could bear it if it meant what he suspected it meant – that one of his friends would die so that he could live.

He suddenly became aware of his surroundings when Fíli, very suddenly, pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you..." Fíli breathed, "so... _so_ much..."

Fíli released Bilbo, who tried to hide his relief at being free from the crushing hold. As Bilbo finally took in Fíli's appearance, he noticed the bloodshot eyes that hadn't quite stopped shedding tears.

"Fíli... are you alright?"

"Me?" Fíli wiped away at his eyes with his sleeve. "Oh, I'm... I'm fine..."

"And Kíli?" Bilbo asked tentatively.

The dwarf sighed. "I don't know... At some point, either when he fell or on his trip down the river, he hit his head on a rock, and Oin thinks that he'll probably suffer some form of amnesia, based on the location of the wound. His leg should heal relatively quickly – it's a fairly standard break – provided he doesn't damage it too much while it does..." Fíli sounded sceptical about Kíli's ability to let something heal _without_ causing further harm to himself. "The wounds from the warg attack are surprisingly minor," Fíli laughed – sounding slightly hysterical in the process. "Oin's cleaned them up, and they were quite shallow. I have no doubt that they hurt intensely at the time–" Bilbo knew that Fíli remembered the pain Kíli's screams on the cliff-top more acutely than he did himself, "-but they shouldn't cause him any long-term lasting damage. His arm, however..."

Bilbo knew better than to ask – he'd seen Kíli's arm on the riverbank. Fíli was looking vacantly at the wall, as though he wasn't really seeing it.

"I should have killed that monster when I had the chance," Fíli muttered quietly, his voice filled with hatred. "I was going to. I had him... at the point of my sword... I WAS GOING TO KILL HIM!"

Bilbo jumped backwards at Fíli's shout. It took the dwarf a moment to compose himself, and another to notice the distress he'd caused.

"I'm sorry..." Fíli said softly. "I didn't mean to shout like that..."

Bilbo had no answer to that.

"I'm..." Fíli muttered, "I'm going to go and see Kíli."

-:-

"I wouldn't go in there, laddie."

Fíli froze, not removing his hand from the doorknob. He had failed to notice Balin still sitting at the table.

"I don't think it's exactly pretty in there," Balin continued in a measured voice.

Fíli leant sideways against the door, paying very little heed to the older dwarf's warnings, and was about to open the door when he heard a snatch of what Oin was saying.

"_We need a miracle, Thorin. Otherwise... we'll need to amputate his arm..."_

Fíli drew sharply back from the door, his blood running cold.

_Amputation._

Part of him wanted to storm into that room and demand to be told that what Oin was saying wasn't true. Kíli could _not_ lose his arm – it would destroy his brother. He wanted to go in there, and (though he'd never admit it) part of him wanted Thorin to comfort him like his uncle had done back when he was a child – back when the world was filled with excitement and endless possibilities for adventure for himself and Kíli, the invincible heirs of Durin, not fear of what fate would throw next at two boys caught out of their depth.

Yet at the same time, something held him back. Oin was being frank with Thorin, something that nobody would ever be with him. If he went in there now and demanded the truth regarding Kíli's fate, all he'd get would be a watered-down version, sugar-coated beyond recognition, or else something so vague it could mean many different things. If he wanted the truth – and he did – then he needed to hear the rest of the conversation. He needed to hear the truth, so that he could be prepared for the worst. He pressed his ear against the door.

It seemed that Thorin was taking longer to digest this piece of information than Fíli had needed.

"That will destroy him," Thorin finally said heavily. "Fíli wouldn't let you."

"Which is why I have no intention of telling him until after the deed's been done."

Fíli would have laughed if it weren't for the fact that the situation was so grave. He'd been right – nobody would give him the truth if he asked for it. He laughed at the absurdity of the only way left to him to glean any information. _So this is what I am reduced to. Listening at keyholes like a disobedient servant._

"Is there any way that we could avoid this?" Thorin finally asked.

Fíli could hear Oin sigh. "I've done what I can, but... The infection's spread fast, and it will continue to spread. Like I said, we need a miracle. Otherwise we face the choice: Either Kíli loses his hand, or he loses his life."

Fíli drew back away from the door, unable to listen any more. He'd heard enough – completely ignoring Balin, who called out to him as he ran from the room and outside onto the veranda, where he leant, gasping, against the fence. He held his emotions in check for a minute longer, waiting to see if anyone was following him, but Balin had made the decision to leave Fíli alone, and nobody else bothered to see if he was alright.

His legs gave way very suddenly, and he fell against the wall, looking up at the sky. The night seemed so beautiful, as though the Valar were gifting them with a night of peace after the storm of the previous evening, but Fíli could not appreciate it. Instead, he whispered a prayer to Mahal.

"Please..." he began. "Please don't take Kíli away from me again... I don't think I could take it... I'll do _anything _to save him, to protect him in the future, just please... _please_ let him live..."

He leant his head against his knees, his hands still clasped together. How long he stayed like that he did not know, but it didn't feel like that long before...

"Fíli?" Gandalf asked.

* * *

**A/N: Ok, first off, sorry. I am so, **_**so**_** sorry for the delay. I know, I said that this chapter would be up more quickly than the last chapter, but this time I have a good(ish) excuse! This is something like the 4****th**** draft of this chapter because document autorecovery or whatever it's called broke, my computer felt the need to restart 3 times in a day (I kid you not – 3 times), and then I needed to reinstall Windows because my starter edition expired (I think...) and I couldn't type anything or save anything and so I've decided that I hate technology. (Actually, that's a lie, I decided that a long time ago, but I felt the need to renew my hatred of it.) Changing the subject from annoying technology, GANDALF'S **_**FINALLY**_** BACK! Yeah, I got bored with him not being around, so more of me trying and failing to write his character convincingly next chapter. I love that wizard to bits, but of all the characters, he is my least favourite to write because he's so damn enigmatic and I have no idea how to get his character right. **_**Wizards these days...**_


	17. Part 1 Chapter 17

17

It had taken some time for Fíli to calm down enough to explain coherently to Gandalf exactly what had happened during his absence, but eventually the wizard had a vague idea of what needed to be done. He led the way into the house, his expression grim, as Fíli followed.

Balin appeared to have retired for the night, but Oin and Thorin had taken his place, sitting around the table, talking in low voices. Both looked up as Gandalf entered, neither expression kind.

"And just _where_ have you been?" Thorin asked hostilely, by way of a greeting.

"Out," was all Gandalf said. If Thorin had been expecting a further explanation, then he was sadly disappointed.

"Where is our host?"

"He will be back at dawn," Gandalf explained. "You will be pleased to know that he has verified your story, and I do believe his invitation to you has been extended. Which is a very good thing, given what occurred over the past twenty-four hours. How is he?"

Thorin did not ask how Gandalf knew about Kíli. He simply flicked his eyes to the door. "Why don't you go and see for yourself?"

Gandalf walked over to the door that Thorin had indicated, guessing that Fíli would follow him, but Thorin instead called his nephew back, and offered him a seat.

The wizard had seen a lot in his time in Middle Earth, and a decent bit in his time before. Many accused him of being jaded for his well-practised art of not letting his emotions show when confronted with the reality of losing a friend. But he had learnt the hard way that you couldn't let your heart rule your head in a time of crisis, lest it should cost you a price bigger than you could pay.

Lest you lose a friend to a cruel, twisted heart.

One thing that Gandalf had never been able to fathom about this world is how much evil there was there. There were creatures wandering the world that were evil... purely for the sake of being evil. He wondered how creatures such as orcs could live on this earth – which was so magnificently beautiful on its own – and yet could not see it, turning it dark and dangerous. Azog was one of those creatures. Gandalf felt pity for the line of Durin – they had been forced to shoulder the burden of loss, marked specifically for slaughter for some unfathomable reason.

And now, as he appraised Kíli's battered, broken form, crudely put back together by bandages, that pity hit him as keenly as it had when he had first felt it.

"And when, pray, were you going to _tell_ me?" Gandalf heard Fíli scream in the next room. "Once his hand had been cut off? Or were you going to wait until we saw Erebor for the first time, and hope I didn't notice? I'm not stupid and I'm not a child! I think I have a _right_ to know what is going to happen to my own _brother!_"

"Fíli, that is enough!" Thorin snapped.

"NO!" Fíli's voice rose to an almost shrill pitch, far beyond what he would usually reach. "No, you endorsed this! You do _not_ get to tell me what to do! _He_ suggested to you that Kíli was going to lose his hand, and you went _along_ with his ruse! You sat there, trying to pretend to me that everything was going to be fine, when I knew perfectly well that it wasn't going to be! What if I hadn't found out? How long would you have kept this up? Would you have held me down at the last second while you cut it off like a chicken's head? You are both as bad as Azog!"

There was an echoing crack in the next room, the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Gandalf opened the door to see Thorin's hand raised, as he was on his feet, while Fíli staggered sideways, clutching his cheek. Oin was sitting at the table, clutching it as it stood between himself and the two heirs of Durin, staring up at Thorin, alarmed.

"Apologise," Thorin said, coldly and quietly as Fíli was abruptly cut off. "Oin is trying to save your brother's life, you will _not_ liken him to the monster that did this to him."

Fíli looked for a moment as though he would have quite liked to have argued some more, but his shoulders slumped, and he slumped against the wall, his face hidden in his hands.

"I take it that this argument started because Kíli's hand is beyond Oin's ministrations?" Gandalf finally spoke.

There was a sigh, as Thorin's anger seemed to blow out of him. He seemed to deflate, and his hand fell down to his side, and he nodded.

"It's been infected," Oin said, sounding slightly flustered. "The infection has progressed to the point where it will kill him if we do not do something soon. And that something is..."

"Amputating it," Gandalf finished.

"Kíli would rather die," Fíli said through his hands.

"That could very well be a choice that he would have to make," Thorin breathed.

Fíli's head suddenly snapped up, and he stared at Gandalf, desperation etched in every line of his face. For a minute he looked to be little more than a child, clinging to a final, pathetic scrap of hope as though his life depended on it.

"Please..." he begged. "There must be something you can do! Please, just... just spare him from this! If there is anything you can do, _please_ do it!"

Gandalf's dark eyes left Fíli's pale blue ones, and fell to the floor. He wished that there was something he could do, but he was not a healer. Perhaps Saruman might have been able to help, or Radagast, even, but he wasn't entirely sure where Radagast was, and in the time taken to fetch Saruman from Orthanc, Kíli would no doubt have died. And even if, by some miracle, Kíli _had_ survived while he rode to Orthanc, he doubted very much that Saruman would help – the head of his order had often criticised him for growing close to individuals, and encouraged him to look at the bigger picture, and if he was honest with himself, Kíli was little more than a pawn in the game of chess that the world seemed to be playing. So, not by his own choice, he once again undertook the role that seemed to have become his, and was once again the herald of woe.

"I am sorry, Fíli."

And there it was – those four words shattered whatever was left of Fíli's hope. Gandalf did not raise his eyes to see that spark die, he had seen it too many times before. He also knew how the next chapter of this tale would play out – Fíli would not look at him, would hate him for abandoning his brother, Kíli would lose his hand, and would most likely survive, and when he woke up and had recovered his strength, the company would leave for Mirkwood, and Gandalf would depart from the company, and how many would be sorry to see him leave, only time would tell. Fíli most certainly would not be. It had happened before, countless times over his long life, with any number of quests which he only sought to aid, and each time it occurred, it still stung just as much as it did the first time. People were inclined to blame him for what went wrong, purely because he was a wizard, and people expected wizards to be able to solve everything. But he was not a healer, nor could he bend the forces of nature to suit his will, and nor could he defy the will of the Valar. So he took the blame thrust upon him, and over time, he became used to it. He didn't _like_ it, but he was used to it.

"No..." Fíli whispered, as he staggered to his feet. He did not miss the glance Thorin threw at Oin, and knew exactly what that was implying. "No! Please! _You can't!_"

Thorin shut his eyes, not looking at his eldest nephew.

"Please! You don't know if he's going to get better! It might get better! Just give it a chance! _PLEASE!_"

His voice had risen to a hoarse scream, but while Oin glanced pityingly at Fíli, Thorin simply turned away, and gestured for Oin to follow him.

"You have to give it a chance to heal! _Please_ give it a chance! _Thorin!_"

Fíli grabbed Thorin's arm, holding him back, but Thorin wrenched his arm free, his stride barely faltering as he opened the door to Kíli's room. By this point Dwalin, Bofur and Ori had been woken by Fíli's pleading, and had come out to see what was going on.

"Thorin, I'm begging you!"

"Gandalf, you're back!"

"What's going on?"

Gandalf said nothing, watching as Fíli ran after his uncle. He knew what had happened – Thorin and Oin had been waiting for his return, and for him to either do something or to confirm that he could not. They knew it would take a miracle to save Kíli, and, as always, he was their best chance of a miracle. He sighed sadly and turned away from the pitiful sight of Fíli standing between Thorin and Kíli, refusing to let him pass.

Eventually Thorin had to drag Fíli away to allow Oin to do his work. He practically flung Fíli away, before joining Oin at Kíli's side. Fíli quickly recovered his footing, and started trying to pull Thorin away from Kíli.

"Get away from him!" he screamed, tears falling thick and fast down his face. When dragging failed to work, he resorted to throwing punches against Thorin's back.

"I said _GET AWAY!_"

When a fist slammed into Thorin's neck, Thorin spun around and pushed Fíli sideways with such force that Fíli lost his footing, and skidded along the floor. As he struggled to his feet , Dwalin instantly rushed into the room, and held Fíli still.

"GET OFF ME, DWALIN!"

Fíli struggled uselessly against Dwalin's tight hold, ever fighting to protect Kíli, when he finally caught a glance of what was happening.

Oin raised the knife, while Thorin held Kíli's hand still on the bedside table.

"_NO! NO, PLEASE! NO!_"

There was a thud, as the knife hit the table, and Fíli slumped in Dwalin's arms, sobs shaking his body.

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it! And for those of you who want to kill me, I'll have you know that I have recently transferred to Pigfarts (Harry Potter fans, please get this reference) and to get to me, you need a rocket. And I have no intention of returning any time soon. Ok, so I'm really bad at writing Gandalf, so he's probably ridiculously out of character, so sorry about that. No, I am not sorry for cutting off Kíli's hand, because it will be relevant later. Thank you all so much for all the wonderful reviews – seriously, over 500! Thank you all so much! I know I hardly ever reply to any of them, but I do really love all of them. It's great to know that you all love this story so much, and I really love hearing your opinions on what I did well and badly in each chapter. **

**Also, somebody who I **_**meant**_** to thank last chapter, thank you so much to Ars Longa, who corrected me by pointing out that sepsis was in fact a development of an infection, as opposed to a separate thing. It was really, **_**really**_** helpful!**

**Also, (I say also a lot, don't I?) there is a fantastic piece of art on DeviantArt which is based around this story. The artist (Scarlett's Fics) anticipated that this was quite likely to happen, and so they drew this picture. The link is: art/Fili-and-Kili-Aftermath-351185620 – seriously, it's fantastic. Go check it out.**


	18. Part 1 Chapter 18

18

It was the morning of the fifth day since Kíli had lost his hand, and Thorin had noticed that things had settled into a routine at the house of Beorn once their host returned, having confirmed their story. The respite was doing the company a world of good, with a few obvious exceptions – Kíli still hadn't woken, Fíli still hadn't forgiven Thorin, and once again, Thorin was becoming restless.

The original plan was to stay at Beorn's until either Beorn got sick of them, (which surprisingly, he hadn't,) or until Kíli had healed sufficiently to carry on the journey. But with every day that passed, the nagging reminder that there was a time limit on the quest grew stronger in his mind, and nobody knew when Kíli would wake, or how long it would be between his regaining consciousness, and his being fit to travel.

Fíli would no longer even look at Thorin. For about a day after the incident, Fíli would not stand to be in the same room as his uncle, staying with Kíli quite literally day and night, sleeping in the chair that he had brought through from the dining room, but he was finally forced to acknowledge that he could not eat comfortably by Kíli's side, nor could he avoid meals altogether. Oin bore his part of the dwarf's ire – Fíli only suffered the elder dwarf's company because he would not be separated from Kíli, and Kíli needed the help that Oin would give him. If it were not for that, Thorin suspected that Oin would be treated with much the same indifference that Fíli was treating his uncle with. Even Dwalin got his share of the blame – he would be spoken to, certainly, but any conversations that were shared between the two were cold and indifferent on Fíli's part, and often littered with insults.

Thorin did not regret the decision that they'd made regarding Kíli's hand – it was because of that that the question was no longer _if_ Kíli woke up, but rather _when_. It had not been an easy decision for him to make – he knew how losing his hand would destroy Kíli, but he had promised his sister that he would do everything in his power to bring her sons to Erebor alive, and to keep them alive until she arrived there, lest he pay for their lives with his own. There was also the far stronger motivator which was that he could not bear to see Kíli die when something could have been done to prevent it.

And yet he was forced to make another hard decision, and while he kept putting it off, in a hope that he wouldn't _have_ to make it, he now knew that he could no longer afford to wait – he needed to make it soon.

"Fíli?" Thorin called out softly as he pushed the door to Kíli's room open.

There was no response from his nephew, but he could see that Fíli was in the room, his chair facing away from the door. Fíli had visibly tensed at his uncle's approach.

Thorin sighed. He should not have needed a reminder of Fíli's anger. He knew that the conversation that was about to follow would not be easy, and he settled himself down on the end of Kíli's bed.

"Get off!" snarled Fíli, jumping to his feet and dragging Thorin away. "You have _no right_ to sit there! Not after what you did!"

Thorin felt a pang of guilt as his eyes travelled over the still-healing bruise on his eldest nephew's face where he had struck him. "Fíli, I'm... I'm sorry."

Fíli laughed humourlessly. "No, you're not."

"Believe me when I say that I am."

"Or what? You'll hit me again?"

Thorin tried to smile. "As I recall, there was a certain amount of punching on your part."

Fíli clearly did not enjoy Thorin's attempt at humour, and simply threw himself back into his chair. Thorin sighed, and settled himself down on Gandalf's bed.

"You should get some rest," Thorin suggested. "It can't be good for you to sleep in that chair all the time. I'll sit with him while you sleep, if you like."

"What? So you can cut off his leg or something when I'm not there to protect him from you?"

It was a low blow, and Fíli knew it. However, he was not about to apologise to the person who had made the decision to remove his younger brother's hand, and in the process, shatter his brother's world.

"I'm staying with him," Fíli said. "And that goes for whatever happens after he wakes up. If he wants to go back to the Blue Mountains, then I'm going with him. I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to be away from you."

Thorin nodded in acceptance of these terms, more for himself than for his nephew's benefit, given as how said nephew still wasn't looking at him. He had expected nothing less from him.

"I assume that you want something, other than to try and force me to leave him."

"That wasn't what I was suggesting."

If Fíli had a response to that, he chose not to give it, falling instead into a brooding silence. Thorin chose his next words carefully. He wanted to show some sense of the importance of the decision that he was about to make, yet he wasn't sure how Fíli was going to react to that. One thing he didn't want was for Fíli to lose his temper again, which the young dwarf seemed prone to do when confronted with Thorin as of late.

"Fíli, we're about to discuss the future of this quest in the dining room."

Something visibly shifted in Fíli's demeanour. Thorin braced himself for –

"Good for you."

Thorin blinked, mildly taken aback. True, he hadn't been sure _what_ to expect, but it certainly wasn't that reaction.

"Well, would you like to join in our discussion? I value your opinion, even if you do not value mine."

"_Why should I?_" Fíli spat. "Why should I do _anything_ for you anymore?"

It would appear that Thorin hadn't escaped Fíli's ire as easily as he'd hoped. In fairness, this was the first two-way conversation that they'd had since Kíli had lost his hand, and to be honest, Thorin was quite surprised that it hadn't turned violent yet.

"I'm not asking you to do it for my sake," Thorin said, keeping his voice level. "I am asking you to do it for Kíli's."

Fíli turned around and met Thorin's eyes. There was hostility there, but mingled within that was a semblance of questioning, and a flicker of doubt.

"What do you mean?"

"Kíli's fate is pivotal in this discussion," Thorin explained. "You know him better than anyone save himself, including your mother."

"I don't know how he'll react after... after what he's been through..."

"You have the best chance of anyone in the company of predicting his reactions, though."

Fíli arched an eyebrow, his expression suspicious.

"Please, Fíli," Thorin said. "For Kíli."

-:-

"The reason why I called this meeting," Thorin began, "as many of you will know, is to discuss the – wait, where's Bombur?"

"Still in bed," Bifur explained. "I tried to get him up, but – "

Thorin got up and opened the door to what had turned into the large makeshift bedroom.

"Bombur," Thorin called out, and the rest of the company heard a squawk of surprise from inside the bedroom. "Meeting. Table. _Now._"

Thorin then returned to his seat, and was soon followed by Bombur, who looked somewhat flustered, as though he had just jumped out of bed. Bifur looked incredulously at Thorin.

"Four words?"

Thorin simply shrugged, before continuing. "We're here to discuss whatever future our quest may have. Now, I would very much like to wait for Kíli to recover so that he can join us, but with every passing day that he remains unconscious, I am forced to accept that that may not be an option."

A deeply uncomfortable silence fell over the company.

"..._What?_"

Thorin turned to look at Fíli, who had chosen the furthest possible chair from Thorin, while still being positioned so that he would not have to look at his uncle.

"Let me just check that I understood you," Fíli said incredulously. "You are going to continue on this quest, leaving him behind, unconscious, and when he wakes, you'll leave _me_ to explain to him why he can no longer shoot a bow? Without so much as an _apology?_"

"What you must understand is that we have a time limit on this quest," Dori explained. "Durin's Day marks the first day of winter, summer is already passing, who _knows_ how long it will take us to get through Mirkwood and the land beyond, and a chance to take back Erebor may not come again within many lifetimes."

"It's the fifth of July," Bilbo stated rationally. "True, I do not know how long it will take us to cross Mirkwood, and let's just say it takes us a week to reach the forest – that takes us to the twelfth, and I know that there are fluctuations between Durin's Day, but they must all be around the first of December, and I highly doubt that it will take us four and a half months to get through Mirkwood and the lands beyond, will it?"

There was a moment of silence, while the more pessimistic (and in some senses, wiser) members of the company tried not to shatter the hobbit's optimism that it could very well take four and a half months or longer to get through Mirkwood, if they made it through at all, should they get lost within the depths of the forest, or captured by Thranduil's folk, or meeting some foul beast brought to the forest by the Necromancer, or any combination of the three.

"Wait – _will it?_"

"There is also the fact that we are not yet fully recovered from the journey over – and partly under – the mountains," Balin stated. "It tired us out, and we went for about a week without food, and I for one do not feel at my full strength after that."

There were murmurs of agreement around the table, and Bombur nodded vigorously, and glancing over to Beorn's pantry, thoughts of breakfast clearly on his mind.

"I fear that we may be outstaying our welcome, though..."

"Stay as long as you like," Beorn said, smiling. "I'm happy to have you as guests – I owe you a debt for killing the Great Goblin, you spared me a lot of trouble with them."

Thorin nodded in gratitude, but that still left the remaining issues on the table. "Gandalf?"

Gandalf settled back into his seat. "You are aware of the fact that I will be leaving your company at the borders of Mirkwood, but I do not counsel you to spend too long here. You know what is at stake, and I know that you fear losing far more than a mound of hoarded gold."

Thorin sighed and ran a hand through his tangled mane of hair. It was a hard decision, but it seemed that he had been doing nothing _but_ making hard decisions recently.

"We stay here for another week," he finally said. "If Kíli is ready and willing to accompany us then, he may do so. If not, then... we cannot afford to wait any longer than that."

Fíli spared his uncle one look of utter fury, before he pushed his chair back and stormed back into his brother's room. Thorin moved to follow him, but Bilbo held up his hand to stop him.

"Thorin, maybe... maybe I should go..."

* * *

Fíli slammed the door behind him with as much force as he could. Having taken his chair into the dining room so that he could have something to sit on and then proceeded to leave it there, he instead perched on the side of Kíli's bed, by the stump that had been, until four days ago, his hand. Tears began to fall freely down his face as he felt something twist in his stomach at the sight of it. He quickly rearranged the blanket over his left arm, for Kíli's sake. He did not deserve to see that the moment he woke up.

"Is that what he meant?" Fíli said, his voice thick. " 'Join in this discussion so I can tell you that we're leaving your brother behind'? That's not _his_ decision to make!"

He stared down at his brother's pale face, untouched by worry, or sadness, or, for that matter, happiness. He brushed away a lock of dark hair that had fallen over Kíli's eyes, knowing that it would annoy his brother no end, should Kíli be conscious enough to _be_ annoyed.

"You never were a quitter. Whatever you do, you always like to see it through to the end. You weren't a natural at archery, but you kept trying – because you wanted to find something that set you apart from everyone else. You took the ridicule that followed, too, but you never once gave it up. I really hope that you don't give up on this quest. I know you don't _want _to. We all thought you were dead, but you didn't give up. You never gave up on life when we thought you were going to die from your hand's infection. I don't understand why you... why you did what you did at the top of that cliff... but _still,_ even after that, you didn't give up. You never give up! And you'd better not start now!"

The door suddenly opened, and Fíli broke off. He was worried that it might be Thorin, but the footfalls were much lighter than his uncle's.

"Are you alright?"

Fíli sighed with relief at the hobbit's voice. He nodded, not taking his eyes from Kíli's face.

"I'm sorry about Thorin's decision," Bilbo said.

Fíli shook his head. "Don't be," he said, turning to face Bilbo. "You didn't make the decision, and if I know my uncle, there'll be no changing his mind."

"Is there... Is there anything I can do?"

"You've done more than enough already, Master Baggins," Fíli smiled. "I cannot ask any more from you."

Bilbo looked sadly down at Fíli, who turned away from the hobbit's gaze.

"I do not need your pity, Bilbo," Fíli said. "It was not me who was captured by a psychopath. It is not my arm that ends in a bandaged stump as opposed to a hand. I'm not the one lying unconscious. He... He didn't deserve this. He is rash, yes, but he was also kind, brave... He always tries to see the best in people. He's loyal, to the point where he'd pay his life to ensure that his family would survive. He did not deserve to suffer like this. And he does _not_ deserve to be abandoned like this."

Bilbo sat down on Gandalf's bed, which hadn't exactly had much use recently except as a seat. The pair sat in companionable silence for a bit, Bilbo falling deep into thought.

This quest had changed him, there was no avoiding that fact. Before he had met Thorin and the rest of the company, he had never touched a sword, and would not have even contemplated ever _using _one. Whatever part of him that was Tookish had been kept very secret. He had always sought the approval of those around him, and the Tookish part of him was of no use to that in the Shire. He had appreciated stories about adventures, but that was where they belonged in the Shire – in stories. Even after meeting the company, he still held that desire to be respected by the dwarves, but to do that he began to listen to his Took side more than his Baggins side.

He thought back to the moment when he had left Bag End. He hadn't been seeking anybody else's approval then – he had been seeking his own. Something that could not wholly be attributed to a Took's spirit for adventure had woken up inside him, and he decided that he did not want to be the kind of person who sat at home, ignoring the rest of the world. He had known that if he hadn't taken that chance to see the world, purely so he could retain the respect of the neighbours, he would have regretted it for the rest of his life. That feeling had grown stronger with every passing day since, to the point where he no longer did anything for the sake of the approval of others, and he had begun to respect himself more.

"Do you have any siblings, Bilbo?"

Bilbo gave a start – he had almost forgotten that Fíli was there.

"No, I... I don't... I have cousins... Lots and lots of cousins..."

Fíli laughed – a genuine laugh that nobody had heard for weeks, but it was abruptly cut off when there was a cough, neither from Fíli nor from Bilbo.

Fíli spun around to look at his brother, grabbed Kíli's hand, and squeezed it, his heart racing as hope flooded through him. A moment that seemed to last forever passed, and nothing happened. Fíli's hope vanished as quickly as it had come, and his eyes fell to the floor, trying to mask his tears –

Pressure suddenly applied itself to Fíli's hands as Kíli squeezed back.

Fíli's eyes flickered up to Kíli's face, unable to believe it. He barely noticed Bilbo get to his feet, as Kíli's eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Fíli?"

* * *

**A/N: What's this? An update merely two days after the last one?**

**Ok, so I figured – what's the best way to get my readers to forgive me for Kíli losing his hand last chapter? I know! A quick update! Plus I felt really annoyed with the world when I got my results for my chemistry exam that I took back in January and it was awful, so to take my mind off that, I have spent every free moment I have writing this chapter. Also, thank you to all the lovely people who reviewed the last chapter! I've said it before and I'll say it again – it really means a lot to know that people are actually interested in this story, despite the fact that it's phenomenally sadistic...**


	19. Part 1 Chapter 19

19

"Water..." Kíli croaked.

Fíli reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a glass of water that he'd not finished. He helped Kíli drink it slowly, though Kíli drank like he hadn't felt water in his mouth for months. Neither brother noticed Bilbo leave quietly, not wanting to intrude on the moment the two brothers were sharing.

"How are you feeling?" Fíli asked gently, lowering Kíli's head back down to the pillows.

"Tired..." Kíli replied, and his voice sounded as though 'tired' was an understatement. His voice was hoarse, and he coughed again, his whole body shaking. "How can I be tired? I must've been asleep for days..."

"Five days, to be precise."

Kíli smiled at Fíli. "It's good to see you, Fíli."

"You too – well, it's good to see you conscious and lucid."

Kíli smiled, before looking around the room. "Where are we? What happened? I mean... I remember falling off that cliff, but I can't remember anything else. How did I get here?"

"Do you remember why you fell?"

Kíli could hear the hurt in his brother's voice, and felt guilt twist in his stomach. He didn't know how he could ever apologise enough for what he'd done, and so simply nodded. He didn't think he could force out another word if he tried.

Thankfully, it seemed that it was a topic that Fíli didn't want to dwell on, either. Fíli began to explain all about Beorn, while Kíli listened silently, savouring every moment. He didn't have nearly enough energy to contemplate doing anything else, and to be honest, he didn't particularly want to. He had really, _really_ missed the sound of his brother's voice.

Fíli had reached the part of the story where Kíli had lost consciousness after being brought back when he was interrupted by the door swinging open. Oin walked in, followed by Thorin. Fíli stood up, immediately protective. Kíli waited for someone to speak, but was sadly disappointed. It appeared that none of them knew what to say.

"Hello, uncle," Kíli said conversationally, choosing to ignore the clearly tense atmosphere between the other occupants of the room.

"I don't want you talking to _him_, Kíli," Fíli ground out. "He's a-"

"Hold on," Kíli snapped, sounding slightly incredulous. "Since when did _you_ get to decide who I can and can't talk to? Particularly when it comes to talking to my own family?"

Fíli glanced down at Kíli, who raised his eyebrows. The elder brother lowered himself slowly back into his chair, giving Thorin one final scathing look as he did so.

"It's good to see you finally awake, Kíli," Oin said, trying to diffuse the tension. Thorin, who seemed to be incapable of forming words, simply nodded. "You were asleep for some time."

Kíli grinned the same trademark grin of his that everyone had missed so much. "So I've been told. What have I missed?"

Oin smiled weakly. "When you fell, you managed to hit your head on a rock – Well, more accurately, I think you must have hit it on your trip down the river, given as how the damage wasn't very severe. You may have some problems with remembering some things, but given as how you seem to remember the rest of us, it doesn't seem too bad. You broke your leg, but that should be on the mend by now. I wouldn't recommend walking on it for at least another day or so, and even then, don't try walking for great distances without some form of aid – like a walking stick or something. The scratches from the warg attack are nearly healed, but please... _please_ do your best not to mess them up again."

"And my hand?"

Kíli did not miss the way that Oin's tongue was stilled, nor the glance that Thorin shot the company's healer. Fíli suddenly became very interested in the floor, but Kíli noticed the way that he had tensed.

"Kíli..." Thorin said gently. "Your hand had become infected. The infection was killing you, and we had very little choice over what to do."

Trepidation crept over Kíli. "What happened?" He hadn't noticed that anything had been particularly wrong beforehand – everything else that hurt seemed to take over. It was only now that he noticed the absence of pain in his left hand – and the absence of any other feeling.

Thorin took a deep breath, but it felt so shallow in his throat. "We had to amputate it."

Kíli glanced down at his shoulder, and slowly drew out the rest of his arm from beneath the blankets, not quite ready to believe it. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the stump. His arm finished just below the elbow, and his eyes followed down where the rest of his arm should have been, stopping where his hand should have been. He didn't need anybody else to tell him what this meant. It seemed so detached, it felt so surreal, as though he was looking at somebody else's arm. It wasn't his arm, it couldn't be his arm...

"Well... it could have been worse..." he said, hoping that the false optimism in his voice wasn't quite as obvious to the others as it was to him. "Azog could have burnt my other hand, then I would have been _completely_ at a loss. I wouldn't have even been able to use a sword."

Fíli stared at his brother. He had just watched Kíli's world shatter and while the others could not quite believe that _this_ was his reaction, Fíli knew his brother well enough to recognise that this was his self-defence mechanism. Make light of a bad situation, and perhaps it might not seem so bad...

"Kíli..."

"I mean... It'll be an interesting talking point, won't it?" Kíli continued to babble, and his mask began to slip, as his voice rose as he became more and more hysterical. "If we ever get back home, I might actually have an identity of some form – I'll be known as the one-handed _freak!_"

Kíli began to laugh hysterically, but tears began to form in his eyes.

"Kíli, I'm so sorry..."

The mask shattered, and Kíli fell forwards into his brother's embrace, as a tidal wave of emotions finally broke loose. He began to sob uncontrollably into Fíli's chest, clutching desperately at the front of his brother's shirt.

"I hate him..." Kíli gasped. "I _hate _him..."

To Thorin, Kíli looked like he was five years old again, having just found Fíli after losing him while they were out in the market – a common occurrence, traumatic for all parties involved. But back then, problems could be solved with a quick kiss from their mother, or a protective hug from the boys' father, whose arms could shield them from the horrors of the world. How the exiled king longed for a return to those days. For nothing... _nothing_... could fix this.

Nothing could bring back Kíli's hand.

* * *

**A/N: So just a (comparatively) short chapter this time, and something of a filler – everyone wanted me to write out Kíli's reaction, and to be perfectly honest, I have no idea how to link this smoothly with the rest of Kíli's recovery, so to get around the issue of a drastic mood change, I put in a chapter break. Once again, thank you for all the reviews! It's good to know that people have forgiven me for my sadism, so muchas gracias!**


	20. Part 1 Chapter 20

20

Kíli had sobbed into Fíli's shirt for what felt like hours. He had let down his guard after what felt like years, shedding every tear he'd longed to shed since he'd been separated from the company outside Rivendell. He'd cried and cried until he had no more tears left, unable to remember the last time he'd lost control like this, taking whatever comfort he could find in his brother. He hadn't even noticed Thorin and Oin leave as a tidal wave of emotions washed through him, and once he'd given all the tears he could give, he just sat there, dry sobs heaving through his body. And all the while, Fíli sat there, wishing, _praying_, that he could have done more to alleviate his brother's suffering.

Eventually, however, Kíli broke apart, and fell back into the warmth of his pillows, and the pair fell into silence, lost in their own thoughts.

"You shouldn't be angry with him," Kíli said, breaking the silence after goodness knew how long.

Fíli jolted out of his stupor.

"What?"

"Thorin," Kíli said. "It hardly escaped my notice that you're angry with him – and judging by the way you acted when he was in the room, it was about me. Whatever it is, you should forgive him. I'm here now, I'm alive..."

Fíli snorted. "You have no idea what he's done."

"Whatever it was, I'm sure that he made the best decision he could."

"What happened to you was his fault!"

Kíli blinked, as an expression of disbelief formed on his face. "Oh, Fíli, _please _tell me you're not angry because he made the decision to use the time I bought him by taking the pony... This quest is not solely about me, so don't be angry that he chose the rest of the company over me at times. I made a mistake then – and what happened afterwards is on my head only. Well, mine and _Azog's_." Kíli spat out the orc's name like it was poison on his tongue.

"It's not just that!" Fíli snapped. "He only tried to look for you _after_ the pony returned riderless!"

"I would have done the same, had I been in his shoes."

"He dragged me away in the mountain." Fíli trusted his brother knew what he was talking about, but guessed that this particular snippet of the story would be new to him.

Sure enough, a flash of realisation shot across his face, eclipsed immediately by understanding. "He had no way of knowing that I was down there," Kíli explained. "And if you're so angry at him for that, then why didn't _you_ press the issue at the time? Oh, wait – _because you didn't recognise me_. So if _you_ couldn't, then why should he, when he never even saw me?"

"You are determined to believe the best in him, aren't you?"

"WELL, I HAVE TO, ALRIGHT?"

Fili jumped at Kíli's outburst, and was startled to see Kíli's eyes filled with tears.

"I have to believe in him..." Kíli said, anger seeming to deflate rapidly from him, "because I have seen the horrors of this world... the darkest things out there... and I have to believe that Thorin would have tried to help me if he'd... if he'd known... Otherwise, how _can_ I step out that door, knowing what else is out there? Or else thinking that the biggest evil is in my own family?"

Fíli could have told his brother right then and there... It seemed that Kíli hadn't guessed that Thorin was responsible for Kíli losing his hand, it would have been so easy to enlighten him, to bring him round to Fíli's way of thinking... Why didn't he?

The answer came to him as he looked Kíli in the eyes, and he saw what shone there, brighter than the beacon of Amon Din.

_Trust._

Fíli could not believe it. After everything, Kíli still knew how to trust in people. Determination, he could understand. A longing to trust... Fíli had felt more than anything over the past few days. He had longed to return to the days where his uncle was the greatest person in the world, who would do _anything_ to shield them from the creatures of their nightmares... But Fíli had found that he couldn't quite believe that the nightmares would just go away with his uncle's words anymore.

If Kíli could, then Fíli wasn't going to take that away from him.

* * *

Thorin walked into the small bedroom with a certain level of trepidation. Fíli had come out not all that long ago, telling him that apparently Kíli wanted to talk to him alone, and that his youngest nephew did not know about his involvement in the amputation, and that under no circumstances was he to inform Kíli, because somehow, goodness knew how, Kíli still thought the best of him. Which did very little to ease the knot of guilt twisting his stomach.

"Hello, Uncle."

The greeting was warm, friendly... Neither of which Thorin had been treated with recently. He'd been treated with pity by most of the company, and the open hostility he'd received from Fíli had been about as far from friendly as anything could get. He'd missed being treated as family as opposed to royalty.

Not that he felt he deserved warmth and friendliness from Kíli now.

"Kíli," he settled for standing behind the chair that Fíli had occupied until very recently. "How are you?"

He winced at the false tone that his voice took on. It was one of authority, as though he was consulting a royal council over affairs of state as opposed to the youngest in his family who, until very recently, he'd believed to be dead.

"Fine." Kíli's facade was better than Thorin's, but it was the choice of words that let him down.

"Well, that's a lie and we both know it."

Kíli's gaze fell down to the foot of the bed, and Thorin suddenly lost control.

"What... were... you... _thinking?_" he hissed. "Kíli, you nearly got yourself killed! Did you have _any_ idea what you were doing when you took that pony? How on earth did you hope to succeed? And even if you _had,_ how would you have found us? It was the most stupid thing you could possibly have done!"

"Do you think..." Kíli said quietly, and it was a credit to him how steady his voice was as he raised his head, "...that I have not spent every day – nay, every _second_ since, regretting what I did?"

Kíli's eyes had gone dark – there was absolutely no happiness there, just undiluted regret.

And to that, Thorin had no answer. So he did what he did best – change the subject to the one he wanted to talk about and cut to the chase.

"What can you tell me about Azog?"

Kíli's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"You've been in his company for over a week, what happened? What did you see?"

Kíli looked down at his hand, before raising his eyes to meet with Thorin's, a smile on his face. "How much do you know already?"

And so Kíli talked. He was very sparse on the details of what the orcs were like as jailors, and completely avoided the topic of his treatment, focusing instead on the dynamics of the group, and Thorin had the feeling that a newer, darker side of his youngest nephew was just beginning to reveal itself.

-:-

Fíli entered five minutes later, intending to tell the pair that dinner was ready, and no, it wasn't sickeningly sweet honey-cakes, which Thorin had grown to hate. He'd loved them at first, as they were absolutely delicious in small quantities, and they'd reminded him of the things he'd eaten in Erebor. But they were _only _good in small quantities, so after about two days of eating nothing but these sugar-filled snacks, which had resulted in Ori spending the best part of an hour outside, hunched over a bush as he emptied the contents of his delicate stomach, as Nori had so elegantly put it, Thorin had put his foot down. Beorn had forbidden meat, but that didn't mean that they had to spend all the time eating 'pure sugar with added sweeteners.'

Fíli paused outside the door, hearing dim murmurs from inside the room – clearly Thorin and Kíli were in deep conversation. With his hand on the doorknob, he waited for a sensible break in the conversation, knowing that it had been hard enough to get Kíli to talk about anything that had happened during the past week.

"...And better yet – he has a son."

"A son?" Fíli heard Thorin repeat incredulously. "How would that work?"

Pause. "All I know is that he has a son called Bolg, and while I don't think Azog has felt anything akin to love for him, an attack on Bolg is the lowest insult to Azog, and if there's one thing that Azog would do anything for, it's him."

There was a long pause, before...

"Bolg was the one in charge of the group that caught me."

Fíli had heard enough, he twisted the handle and entered before Thorin could let out any of the curses resting on his tongue.

Thorin and Kíli both looked up as Fíli entered, Kíli's face breaking into his trademark grin.

"Dinner's ready," he announced.

"Excellent!" Kíli's grin only widened, pushing himself up, clearly about to get up, before Thorin put a hand on his chest.

"What is it?" the elder dwarf asked warily.

"Mixed vegetable soup and bread," Fíli smiled impishly, noting Thorin's look of utter relief, contrasting heavily with his brother's thunderstruck expression.

Kíli stopped bothering to try and get up almost immediately, falling back into the pillows with an unsatisfied 'humph'.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry about the delay, I... have no excuse except that I can't write things which doesn't fit under an alternative title of 'Fifty Shades of Depressing'. Which is unfortunate, really, because this chapter, along with next one or two are essentially going to be a series of scenes that I've had in my head of Kíli's recovery in Beorn's house for a while now, some of which may contain little titbits of information which may be useful to the plot later on, and some of which I just want to write. If anyone thinks that I can't write happy stuff, I would entirely agree with them, so if at any point you can give me pointers/think I should just give up (which may be the wise course of action) just let me know!**

**Happy Easter everybody!**


	21. Part 1 Chapter 21

21

Fíli felt a jolt in his stomach as Kíli collapsed sideways, and if he hadn't been expecting it, Kíli would have hit the floor. As it was, Fíli ran forwards, catching his brother and gently putting him down on the bed, just as the door opened and Thorin walked in.

"Try again," Oin said, flatly ignoring his leader's presence.

"What's going on?" Thorin asked.

"Oin deemed it acceptable for Kíli to attempt to start walking again," Fíli answered.

"Ah."

"And I _just – can't – do it!_" Kíli ground out, refusing to look up.

Following a fitful night's sleep, Oin had announced that if Kíli felt up to it, they could try walking once around the room. Kíli had rushed out of bed almost immediately, regardless of his still-healing leg, which turned out to be a very bad idea, given as how the moment Kíli put his injured leg down, he'd fallen sideways into Fíli, and the pair had ended up on the floor. Oin had done his best not to laugh – Kíli was fine afterwards, save for his pride, and the looks on this and his brother's faces was something that Oin could not fail to be amused by. However, that was the only amusing moment that morning, and with every passing attempt Kíli had become more and more downhearted until, after an hour, he was so dejected that he could barely find his feet, even with Fíli's aid. Which was when Thorin had entered.

"Yes, you can," Thorin said, matter-of-factly.

"No, I... I _can't!_" Kíli said, and he sounded close to tears. "I've been trying all morning, and all I've gained from it is an interesting collection of bruises!"

"You can also stand," Fíli pointed out. "You don't need me holding you up once you're on your feet to stay upright."

Kíli snorted. "Yes, I can stay on my feet – once you've stood me up like some oversized ornament."

"Which is better than what you were doing earlier – half an hour ago I'd let you go and you'd fall over. That's got to count for something."

"He's right," Oin chipped in. "I've seen people with injuries like yours and let me assure you that at this stage in the recovery, most of them would still be in their beds, unable to sit up, let alone stand. You're doing remarkably well, I'm worried that you're pushing yourself. Perhaps it would be best if we called it a day and tried again tomorrow-"

"NO!" Kíli cut him off abruptly. "We can't stop now, I... I _have_ to push myself! Otherwise... Otherwise Azog's going to reach Erebor before us!"

Kíli only realised after he'd said this that this was the first time he'd spoken of Azog's plans to the company, and his exclamation was only met with confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

Kíli looked up at Thorin apologetically. "Azog... Azog wants to disgrace the line of Durin. He wants to insult us as much as possible, and to do that, he wants to take Erebor. He feels that there is no better way to disgrace our name than to sit on the throne of our ancestors."

Kíli's eyes flickered around the room – Fíli looked shocked, Oin looked angry, and Thorin looked resigned, if not slightly sickened by the thought.

"Of course..." Thorin said quietly. "He _would_ want that..."

Without another word, Thorin walked out the door, his face set, leaving the others to wonder what exactly he'd come in for in the first place.

"Well, I'm... I think we should call it a day," Oin said, gathering his resolve once more.

"But-"

"Kíli, if we try anything more I'm worried that it will do more harm than good – I know you want to push yourself, but you _do_ have limits."

"_Please,_ Oin..."

"No," Oin said decisively, showing that no amount of begging, puppy-dog eyes or bargaining was going to get him to change his mind. "I've made my decision. After you've had a rest, then maybe – _maybe_ – we can try again this afternoon. And don't give me that look, Kíli, this is for the best."

Kíli refused to stop glaring at Oin, barely suffering Fíli to help him get back into bed. Oin sighed – he'd endured far worse than a glare for his decrees as a healer – and followed Thorin out, mildly annoyed.

"Kíli, there's a point where I can tell when you're being difficult deliberately," Fíli said exasperatedly. "Tensing your good leg and refusing to allow it to move comes under that heading."

Kíli huffed theatrically and fell backwards across the bed. Fíli sighed – the only thing worse for him than an injured Kíli was a sulking injured Kíli.

Nevertheless, he 'aided' (if lifting him up and putting him back into bed in the right position could be called 'aiding') Kíli around so that he was settled into a comfortable position on the bed.

"You'll get there, you know," Fíli smiled.

Kíli gave another derisive snort, turning away with no small degree of annoyance. "You saw how well it went today," he snapped.

"Yes, I did," Fíli said testily, his own annoyance beginning to show. Kíli had a short temper at the best of times, which was only shortened by whatever had happened to him at Azog's hands. Fíli usually possessed a remarkable ability to keep his head, counteracting his brother, but the sheer intensity of what he'd felt over the past couple of weeks – had it _really_ only been two weeks? – had shortened his own temper considerably. "It seems to me that you, on the other hand, didn't. Kíli, you suffered a week with barely any water, and less food. You fell off a cliff! It's going to take a while to recover from what you went through."

He chose to ignore how Kíli tensed at the penultimate sentence, shuddering at the memory. He wasn't going to treat his brother like he was made of glass anymore, and to be perfectly honest he wanted an answer to the question that had been gnawing at his very sanity for a while now.

"Why did you do it, Kíli?"

Kíli closed his eyes, and it was clear that he was fighting back tears.

"Was it for me?" Fíli probed. "Were you trying to save my life, trying to stop me from doing... _that?_"

Kíli looked around, determinedly avoiding Fíli's eyes.

"I have to know, Kíli!"

He hadn't meant to shout this last sentence, but it finally provoked the reaction he'd wanted.

"If you must know..." Kíli said in a small voice, "I... I wasn't doing it for you. I was doing it for myself."

"What?"

"You were bargaining for my life, not my freedom," Kíli forced himself to meet Fíli's eyes. "Do you really think that Azog would have just _let me go?_ No, he would have kept me prisoner while he slaughtered you, making me watch, and then he would have made me watch as he killed Thorin, and then the rest of the company, before _finally_, by his hand or my own, I would be killed, thus ending whatever quest for vengeance Azog had in mind."

"So what? Are you saying that it was _my_ fault?" Fíli's voice rose half an octave with indignity.

"No, I'm not..."

"Because it sounded a _lot_ like that's what you meant!"

"It would have happened anyway!" Kíli finally snapped. "From the moment you started talking, I knew that it had to happen – if not then, then maybe not long after! I just cut out a few victims!"

A ringing silence fell, and suddenly Fíli realised he was on his feet, anger coursing through him.

"You know, you're selfish!" Fíli hissed. "How did you think I'd feel after that? _Happy?_ _Pleased_ that I was alive and you weren't? I'd already lost you once, losing you a second time was _no easier!_"

Tears were running down his own face now, and almost as soon as those words had left his mouth, he felt guilt twist like a knife in his stomach at Kíli's pale face, and it struck him that he'd never before seen Kíli look quite so broken – including the day before when he had just realised that he'd lost his hand. Unable to bear the sight of it, he flung the door open, and stormed out.

-:-

Thorin was deep in conversation with Gandalf and Beorn over the latest revelation that Kíli had brought him.

"This... This changes everything..." Thorin said breathlessly, once he'd finished explaining what Kíli had told him. "With Azog following us, we cannot hope to take back the mountain with _thirteen_ of us! We'll be slaughtered before we get through the door!"

"It was a foolish quest anyway," Beorn said matter-of-factly. "I'm not entirely sure what you were thinking, taking on Smaug. You might as well save yourself the trouble of Mirkwood – turn back now."

Thorin glared at Beorn, showing just how much he valued the skin-changer's input.

"Thorin, do you know if Kíli told Azog about the map and the key?"

"He wouldn't." Thorin said flatly. "Kíli's loyal. He wouldn't."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows sceptically, but said nothing of the trust Thorin put in Kíli's ability to withstand tortures. "In which case, this changes nothing. Azog cannot possibly hope to gain entry by the main gate with Smaug there, and if he doesn't know about the other entrance, and doesn't have the key, then he has no other way to enter the mountain."

"Then what should we do? Should we go as soon as soon as possible?"

"Well, that depends," Gandalf said calmly.

"On what?"

"Whether Kíli is accompanying you or not."

Thorin chose not to respond to that. The simple truth was that he didn't know what Kíli would want to do anymore. Before he had woken, and indeed for some time after, Thorin had assumed that Kíli would want to turn back. But the conversation he'd had with Kíli the evening before... He recalled the tone that Kíli had used when describing the group – he had focused the conversation on how best to destroy the company of orcs. It was very subtle, and he doubted that anybody else would have noticed it. But the tone he'd used to describe Bolg... That was no mere desire for revenge. There was an element of bloodlust there, and as he'd described what killing Bolg would do to Azog, he'd noticed an expression of joy flit across his nephew's face. The smile... Thorin had never seen it grace his nephew's face before – or indeed the face of any of his kin, or his own race. The closest to that was the expressions he'd seen on the faces of orcs, just after the first red blood had been shed on a battlefield. It was not a desire to see more blood spill, it was more than that. It was an obsession.

Before Thorin could dwell any longer on whatever darkness had seized Kíli's soul, the door of Kíli's room burst open, and Fíli came storming out, tears streaming down his face. The entire room fell silent – since Kíli had been brought back by Bilbo, Fíli had emerged from that room twice, and neither for particularly long. The first time he'd shown his face had been to tell Thorin that Kíli wanted to speak to him, and the second time had been later that evening, escorting Thorin from the room, pausing on the threshold to tell Thorin that if his uncle ever... _ever_ lost his temper with Kíli like that again, he, Fíli, would personally see to it that Thorin's face would be decorated with an interesting blue and purple blend, and that his uncle would 'piss blood for a month.' So what Thorin found most surprising was Fíli's reaction to the question posed to him.

"Fíli, what happened?"

"Do whatever you want with him!" Fíli snarled. "Rip his head off if you like, see if I care!"

Which was followed by the front door opening and slamming behind Fíli's retreating form.

Dwalin shot Thorin a confused look as the silence only intensified. The unspoken question resided on everybody's lips: _What is going on?_

Without a word, Thorin walked into Kíli's room, his eyes focusing on the dark-haired figure who was staring at the ceiling.

"What just happened?"

Kíli's gaze switched from the rafters to Thorin, only just noticing his appearance. "Fíli asked me a question, I answered it, he over-reacted, we both said some harsh things and he stormed out." The monotone in which Kíli delivered his explanation told Thorin absolutely nothing except that Kíli would really rather not talk about it.

Not that Thorin was in any mood to indulge his nephew.

"What question did he ask you?"

"Ask him about it." A hint of annoyance had crept into Kíli's monotone.

"I'm asking _you_, Kíli."

Kíli sighed, finally realising that Thorin wasn't going to go away until he had the answers he'd sought. "He asked me why I jumped off the cliff."

_Ah._

"And your answer was...?"

"I might have told him it was his mistake."

_Oh, Mahal spare me..._

"Please... _please_ tell me you didn't..."

"Why shouldn't I? It _was!_ No matter how pretty the lie may be, one thing I've learnt is that brutal honesty is usually best!"

"How was it his fault?" Thorin's anger was clearly threatening to break loose, but he kept his head this time.

"If he hadn't started _bargaining_ with Azog, do you think that such a thing would have occurred to me?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I'm surprised it only occurred to you then!"

"What?" Kíli's voice had gone lower than usual, hurt evident in his eyes. It had been a slip of the tongue, but Thorin knew Kíli had taken it to heart.

"I'm only saying that if it was going to occur to you at all, I'm surprised that it occurred to you when Azog was about to spare you."

"And if he had, what then?" Kíli all but screamed, his voice still slightly hoarse from dehydration. "What would have happened then? Is it so _hard_ for everyone to see? Azog would have butchered Fíli before my eyes! Do you think I'd have been able to _live_ with that? Knowing that he died for me?"

"_I_ had to."

It was this quiet admission that finally calmed Kíli. Never had Thorin spoken with Kíli about Frerin's death, and as far as Kíli was aware, Thorin had never spoken with Fíli about it, either.

"I had this insane plan... At Azanulzibar, I thought that we could slip inside the mine, and poison the orc's water supply... It seemed like such a great idea – the two young exiled princes, winning back Moria with a daring scheme that vanquished the orcs..." Thorin gave a grim laugh, sitting himself down on Fíli's chair. "I begged..." He swallowed. "I begged Frerin to join me. He didn't want to at first, but everyone seemed to look down on him, and he _hated_ it. I knew what to say to get him to join me. '_Please,_ Frerin! We'll come back as heroes! People won't look twice at Dain if we're standing next to him!' – You have to understand that Dain often criticised Frerin, never seeing him of any worth, openly mocking him in the street, and it eventually got to the point where Frerin actually _hated_ Dain. He eventually agreed, and so later, at dusk, we set out.

"And that's where it all went wrong..."

"What happened?" Kíli asked, hardly daring to speak.

"We forgot something very important – we hadn't planned our raid, we just _did_. We forgot that orcs were at their most alert at night. It was the stupidest oversight we could have achieved. We got inside easily enough, slipping in when the guards changed, but once inside, we... we didn't find their water supply. Instead we found... their armoury.

"The whole place was full of orcs, in various states of undress. One thing I distinctly remember Frerin saying as we fled was 'I don't care how many times I wash my eyes out with soap, I am never going to get _that_ image out of my head.'"

Kíli gave a weak laugh.

"But the alarm was raised, and so orcs from all around Moria were on the lookout for us, and somehow, we ended up being herded into the throne room. Azog was sitting there, the 'King of Moria,' and I could feel Frerin seethe beside me at the injustice. But he'd been faced with the orc king before. I don't know if he knew how dire our situation was, but he whispered in my ear in Khuzdul: 'On the count of three, I'll distract them. You run, I'll meet you back at the camp.'

"Of course, I tried to argue, but he just went ahead and counted anyway. I knew that he was going to go ahead and carry out his part of the plan whatever I said, so I thought I'd better do my part. So when he reached three, he attacked, and I ran for it. I... I shouted at him to run once I'd reached the door, but he'd encountered some difficulties of his own. He... He told me to go..."

-:-

_Thorin could barely see Frerin through the wall of orcs surrounding him._

"_Frerin, _RUN!_"_

_As soon as these words had left his mouth, he knew something had gone wrong. There were splashes of red blood on the floor._

_Frerin's blood._

It's just a cut, _Thorin told himself. _It's just a cut...

_But as soon as he'd told himself this, he knew it was a lie. The standard cut did not bleed that much. This was... worse._

_He had to help – Thorin drew his sword. This was all his fault – if Frerin died for his foolishness, he would never, _ever_ forgive himself..._

_But just as he lunged forward, Frerin shouted something over the din._

"_Go! Thorin, for Mahal's sake, GO! I'll... I'll catch you up!"_

_And like the fool he was, Thorin believed him._

_He made it out somehow, running down corridors that were deserted. He didn't know how much time had passed between leaving Frerin and escaping into fresh air, but by the time he made it back to camp, dawn was creeping over the mountains. At the sight of the tents, he turned back to the mountains._

"_Frerin?"_

_He knew it was useless – Frerin probably wouldn't be able to hear him, even if he _had _made it out. But he couldn't help himself._

"_FRERIN!"_

_Tears began stinging his eyes. No, Frerin _had_ to come out. Frerin had to show his face sometime, this was just a joke that Frerin was playing on him. Any minute now, Frerin would jump out from behind him, laughing his head off, with maybe a few new battle scars... _

_But Frerin had never kept him waiting before..._

_His eyes fell down to the bag of crushed herbs and poisons in his left hand. They hadn't even succeeded in doing that..._

_Thorin's legs gave way, and he fell down onto a rock, failure crippling him. He sat there for Mahal knew how long, waiting. Dawn turned into dusk, and dusk back into dawn, the endless cycle of the world fulfilling itself over and over again, and still Frerin did not emerge..._

"_Oh, Frerin," Thorin sobbed. "I'm so sorry..."_

-:-

"I made it out," Thorin concluded. "Frerin... didn't."

"I'm sorry..." Kíli reached out his hand, completely at a loss of what to do.

Thorin took it, giving Kíli a weak smile. "I learnt afterwards, when we were interrogating an orc captain, that apparently the last thing Frerin ever did was that, as he was dying, he spat a mouthful of blood at Azog's feet. I don't think I've ever been more proud of him."

Kíli smiled, wondering where Thorin was going with this.

"Kíli, I have to ask – do you wish to continue with us? I'd understand if you wanted to go back to the Blue Mountains..."

"What? Uncle, of _course _I want to continue!"

"Kíli, you don't have anything to prove to anyone..."

"I don't _want_ to prove myself!" Kíli snapped. "It just feels like... turning back now would have made the past few weeks seem like nothing. It would make _this_ – " Kíli held up his left arm, where the sleeve of his shirt (a gift from Fíli) fell back to reveal the stump where his left hand should have been, "-be for nothing! I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not!"

Thorin smiled, dropping Kíli's hand. "Good lad..."

He stood up to leave, but paused by the door. "Oh, and Kíli?"

"Hm?"

"I... I don't think I've _ever_ been more proud of you."

* * *

_Four days later..._

Kíli hobbled awkwardly into the dining room, using a stick to keep himself upright, with Fíli hovering behind him, his arms ready just in case Kíli should fall. Not that Kíli entirely appreciated the effort.

"I _can_ walk by myself, you know," he huffed indignantly, causing a roar of laughter from the table.

"Well, actually, I think you'll find that you can't," Dwalin pointed out, gesturing to the walking stick.

It was the first time Kíli had actually emerged from the bedroom, and, unsurprisingly, the youngest dwarf in the company was getting sick of the room. Kíli gave a good show of being delighted to be walking around again, but the look of relief on his face as he fell down into the chair Oin kicked out for him told a different story.

"So what's been happening?" Kíli asked, as Fíli pushed his chair under the table.

"I've pretty much told you the entire story of what's been going on since..."

"Did you mention the bit about Bofur forgetting to remember which direction the sun rises?" Bifur put in helpfully.

"What!?"

"It was one time!" Bofur said defensively. "I knew I'd overslept! I just... didn't realise... how _much_ I'd overslept..."

Kíli made a disappointed noise. "I'm sorry I missed that..."

"And did you mention how Dwalin had issues with stairs?"

"Don't – even – _think_ – about it..." Dwalin ground out, glaring at Nori, who'd dared to bring up the issue.

"Oh, yeah!" Fíli began, his memory having been jogged. "Basically, after about two days of Dwalin flatly refusing to have a bath, Thorin _finally_ put his foot down-"

"It's not that I didn't want to have a bath, it's that I didn't want to go around smelling like daisies-"

"-And so anyway, the bath is upstairs, but the stairs are steeper than usual, given as how they're designed for men, but there's this one irregularity about half-way up. The rest of us all figured out that one of the stairs is slightly higher than the others, but not Dwalin. He tripped on that stair... how many times?"

"Four," Oin put in helpfully.

"Four times on the way up," Fíli concluded, leading the entire table to burst out laughing at Dwalin's expense.

"Hah hah, very funny," Dwalin said sarcastically.

"Of course, when he came back down, he slipped on the same step and fell down the stairs again!"

"The mighty Dwalin, defeated by a flight of stairs," Ori grinned.

"Well, what about the time you fell through the door, Ori?"

This triggered a series of anecdotes about embarrassing or hilarious incidents (depending on your viewpoint) to be related for Kíli's benefit. Bilbo gazed around the table fondly. It was very much a dwarven party – completely uncivilised, loud, lots of food being thrown around the place, at somebody else's house, _obviously_, and with an incredibly happy atmosphere.

"So is your leg healed up then, Kíli?" Bilbo asked.

"Pretty much," Kíli answered, helping himself to a flagon of ale being passed around by Nori, who was walking down the table. "It's still a bit stiff, but I can walk on it."

"Good thing, too," Thorin cut in. "Given as how we're leaving tomorrow."

Kíli jumped just as he took a swig of ale, showering his face with foam. "What?"

"We're continuing our journey tomorrow. Did Fíli not mention it?"

Kíli turned around to face his brother, who shrugged and mouthed 'I forgot.'

"I suppose it's for the best," Oin said. "With Azog on our tail, it will be very hard to find the door discretely. Particularly if he, too, is prowling around the base of the mountain."

"Azog will not keep us from success," Thorin said calmly. "He may seek to disgrace us, but we will not run from him. We are not cowards. We will not stand idly by and pass up the best chance of retaking our homeland that will come around in this lifetime or the next because an oversized orc wishes to steal it from us. We will _not_ allow any others to claim what is ours by right! With the wolves at our backs, we will not hide! They can take our blood, but they will _not _steal our home! Because Erebor is ours, and we will not have anybody other than the line of Durin sit in our throne!"

* * *

**A/N: And so ends part 1! (Yes, I am doing it in parts now.) So very soon, they'll be on the road again – and by very soon, I mean next chapter. Now, just in case you were wondering, the incident with Dwalin falling down the stairs did actually happen – to me. Yes, it did take me five attempts to climb up a flight of stairs, something which my friends never cease to wind me up about. (In my defence, the French had some really **_**bad**_** medieval architects.)**

**Anyhoo, moving swiftly on from embarrassing stories about myself, I regret to announce that this is the end (for two weeks). I'm going now (to France, where I intend to surf, not to climb badly designed staircases, and also where there is no internet except in a cafe which I may or may not be able to go to a couple of times over the holiday, so don't expect any updates for a couple of weeks, but there may be a small tidal wave of them on the 14****th****/at a really random time during the two weeks). And I bid you all a very fond farewell. *Puts on ring and vanishes.***

**Now, I'm off to write a couple of depressing chapters. All that hope and happiness at the end is making me queasy.**


	22. Part 2 Chapter 1

**- ****PART TWO**** -**

1

_The scene was so familiar... but something was different... This didn't seem so voluntary, and the thrill that shot through him was one of indescribable terror, not exhilaration. He urged the pony to run faster, but nothing he could do allowed him to gain ground on the wargs..._

_Suddenly, the view in front of him was so startlingly familiar it jarred through his body – in a matter of seconds, everything was about to go horrifically wrong... He glanced back over his shoulder, and his roving eyes finally found his brother, and he was so sorry..._

_His brother turned away, but not before he saw a flash of disappointment cross his face – was it disappointment? He couldn't tell from this distance..._

_It suddenly happened – the pony's front leg hit the floor awkwardly, the other front leg crumpled under the entire weight of steed and rider, the back legs didn't stop moving forward, and the pony rolled over, and he was face-down on the floor. It had happened so quickly, yet he had felt every single movement. He tried to push himself up, but suddenly a boot slammed itself in between his shoulder blades._

_He twisted his head around to try and see who it was, but they had left before he could see them. His eyes instead focused on the approaching orc, who drew a sword and pressed it against the back of his neck. He was forced to face forwards, and his eyes found..._

_No. Not him. Anyone but him._

_The figure waved at him, before disappearing from view, but not before he had recognised that face. Please... Not him... It couldn't be him... No, he wouldn't believe it... No, no, no, no..._

"NO!"

Kíli sat bolt-upright, his eyes flying around the room, and he let out a sigh of relief as he realised it had been a dream – only a dream. It was dark, with moonlight giving little light as it shone down upon them, but he could see the silhouette of Fíli lying beside him. He felt a stab of guilt as his brother stirred, groaning, as he straightened up.

"Sorry, Fíli, did I wake you?"

"S'alright," Fíli mumbled, as settled down into a comfortable position"Are you alright? I can send for Oin to give you something for the pain, if that's what's keeping you up."

Kíli shook his head. "No, it's... It's not that..."

Fíli surveyed Kíli, who refused to meet his eyes. He was embarrassed about something, clearly...

"You had a nightmare?"

Kíli paused, before nodding, his cheeks burning. It had been years, _decades_ since he had needed to wake Fíli up after he'd been haunted by the terrors of his mind.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Kíli shook his head, blinking back tears – _It was only a dream. It was a dream, nothing more..._

_Wasn't it?_

It had seemed so vivid. And he could tell himself whatever he wanted, but he couldn't escape the fact that his dream – or something very similar – had actually happened.

_But it's in the past._

Fíli had obviously seen his discomfort, as he was being pulled into a hug.

"I'm sorry, Kíli," he breathed.

Kíli's only answer was a confused look.

"I should have protected you from this. It was my fault. I made you a _promise_ that I would never let you get hurt. And I broke it. I'm so... I'm so sorry..."

"Fíli, I..."

But Kíli had no way to respond to that. Instead, he just sat there in the warmth of his brother's embrace, before noticing that they weren't the only two up.

"Half of me just expects something to jump out at any minute."

"Aye, the monsters of Mirkwood. You think that you're safe, free from their clutches, when suddenly one reaches out from behind you... and tears your throat out!"

"You shouldn't joke about such things, you know," Kíli interrupted.

Ori and Nori both turned to look at the approaching pair.

"What are you two doing up?" Fíli asked.

"_I_ am on watch," Nori said smugly. "_He_ had a nightmare." Ori elbowed his elder brother sharply in the ribs.

"You too?"

"Mm," Ori made an embarrassed noise.

"I think it's this place," Fíli said. The four of them turned to look at the eaves beneath which they were camped. Mirkwood stood beside them, tall and menacing, making even the goblin caves look light by comparison. Thorin had decided that they would wait until dawn before facing the forest, but until then, they would not light a fire. He didn't want to risk drawing any manner of creatures to their location.

"Agreed," Nori smirked. "You never know what may jump out and attack you from behind!" He jabbed two fingers into the small of Ori's back, who jolted forwards, before turning around to glare at his assailant.

"Nori, that's enough," Kíli said, annoyed.

"It's not so different to what _you_ used to do," Nori responded haughtily.

Kíli gave Nori a cold glare, before turning away, muttering something that sounded a lot like "heavy emphasis on _used_ to..."

There was a moment of silence, during which Nori glared furiously at the back of Kíli's head, before Ori felt it would be an idea to change the subject.

"Kíli, why did you come?"

Kíli turned around, giving Ori a piercing look. "I'm sorry?"

"All I'm asking is why you continued," Ori said. "If I'd been through whatever you went through, I'd have wanted to go home..."

Kíli smiled wryly. "If I went home now, the past few weeks would have been for nothing. Besides, I've been apart from my brother long enough."

"It was two weeks, at most," Nori pointed out.

"Oh, alright, let's send _you_ off for a holiday with Azog, see how long it takes for _you_ to miss your family!" Kíli countered irritably.

"I would have turned back if you had," Fíli said. "Like you said, we've been apart for long enough."

"Of course you wouldn't have," Kíli snapped. "Do you think I'd have _let _you?"

"You were in no position to _let_ me do anything!" Fíli hissed.

Kíli looked for a moment as though he would have liked to respond scathingly, but either he had no retort, or else the retort was not something he was willing to say either to his brother or in front of Ori and Nori, so instead he fell silent.

"Why did you two come?" Fíli asked, changing the subject. "I mean... When Thorin asked you... Neither of you knew Erebor, Thorin hasn't exactly been close to either of you, or for that matter, your brother, and the promise of gold can't have been made more appealing by the dragon that caused an entire army to flee before it."

"Yes, but there's a lot of it," Nori said, in the same pained tone of a bored teacher who had spent the past hour explaining to an over-emotional toddler that yes, one plus one _does_ equal two, and no, there is no variation.

"So much that you'd be preparing to endure a long hard journey, and quite possibly die for it, despite the strong possibility that you would never see a coin?" Kíli asked wryly.

Nori glared at Kíli for a moment.

"I only came because Nori came," Ori said to Fíli, ignoring the tension between his brother and Kíli. "And I think that Dori only came because I was coming. When Thorin came to us, it seemed like it would be too dangerous, but then Nori decided he would come, and I felt that if _he_ was going, then maybe there was a chance that we'd return from it alive. Actually, now that you mention it, why _did_ you come, Nori?"

"The reward," Nori explained, his patience, if possible, waning even more.

"Yes, but Thorin didn't sugar-coat it. He made it perfectly clear that there was a very good chance we'd come to a bad end. And I _know _you. You have the strongest sense of self-preservation I think I've ever seen. You don't go chasing glory, you don't even go chasing _gold_ if you don't think you'll get away with it. So why did you come?"

Nori looked at Ori, before looking imploringly at Fíli and Kíli, silently begging them to change the subject. When neither obliged, looking at him curiously, he finally surrendered.

"Alright, if you must know, I... I... This is me paying a debt I owe to Thorin."

Fíli and Kíli's eyebrows both shot up together.

"I wasn't aware that you owed Thorin any debt," Ori said, confused.

"Well, I do, _alright?_" Nori sighed. "About ten years ago, I might have gotten arrested. I was... I was in the market, and I might have been picking pockets with a friend, Thardin. Anyway, I see this woman, wandering down the street, a hood and cloak over her head. She's buying this very expensive necklace from Varidar, the jeweller, and so me and Thardin-"

"Thardin and I," Ori quietly corrected.

"_-Me and Thardin_ go and sneak up on her, intending to take that necklace out of her bag, along with whatever purse she's carrying. Unfortunately, she happened to want to check her bag while my hand was in it. She screamed out for guards, and so we ran. Unfortunately, we barely make it five metres before some guards tackle us and we're dragged off to prison. As it turns out, luck would have it that we had just tried to pickpocket Lady Sívin."

There was a moment of stunned silence, before...

"Oh," Fíli said slowly.

"Please tell me you didn't," Ori sighed wearily.

Lady Sívin was the daughter of the original chieftain of Ered Luin. She was regarded as immensely beautiful by some, and incredibly powerful by all. She also had a temper to rival Thorin's, and hers was much shorter. There had been a power struggle between Thorin and their family, and the two tribes had never coexisted completely peacefully. There was an element of superiority that those born of families who had lived there since before Erebor's fall held, and those from Erebor had never been entirely accepted. They were seen as outsiders, encroaching on their land, and thus a separation of the Erebor-born families had arisen, and even the children of these 'Erebor' families who had been born in the Blue Mountains had been scorned.

"Well, I have to say that it wasn't my brightest moment," Nori continued. "Of course, she brought her father down to the prison we were being kept in, and he was talking about executing us. He was ranting and raving, demanding that I be publicly beheaded to show what happens to thieves in Ered Luin, and particularly those who go around targeting his family. And then one of his advisors shows up, and says that maybe he should consult Thorin, given as how he was the supposed king of the 'Erebor lot.' So they call him down there, and he says that public beheading is perhaps a little excessive. So the chief says that perhaps they should cut off our hands. Thorin shoots him down, saying that such a punishment was for repeat offenders. Of course, then the loud-mouthed advisor said that if ever there _was_ a repeat offender, I was one, but Thorin pointed out, quite correctly, that there was no _proof._ It was the first – and last – time I'd ever been caught, and so any suspicions that I was a 'repeat thief' were _only_ suspicions, and so they just made me pay a fine, and I was on my way. Thorin essentially walked me home, warned me violently never to get caught again, and since then, I've owed him my life. He called in the debt when he 'invited' me on this trip, thinking I might be of some use, and then Ori and Dori followed me."

"What about Thardin?" Fíli asked.

"Oh, he... He left Ered Luin. About two years ago, now. He got involved with the wrong people... They started asking him to do things he wasn't happy doing – I think they wanted him to torch a house with a family inside it at night. He shot them down, saying that he was a thief, not a killer. So they went ahead and did it anyway – and burnt _his_ house down. As retaliation for his family's deaths, he told the captain of the army where they met, and so the army went to arrest them. Most of them met their ends there, but the few who survived began to hunt him down. He fled the mountains, and they followed. I haven't seen him since. He could be dead for all I know."

There was a note of sadness seldom heard in Nori's voice. Nori and Thardin had been best friends as children – where one went, the other followed. As the rest of their friends and family had grown into respectable citizens, the pair had entered the world of crime. They had initially done it for the sake of being different – as adolescents there was something deeply satisfying about rejecting the world that wanted them to conform to a huge number of frivolous rules, but after Nori's family had thrown him out after a particularly nasty incident, stealing had become a necessity. Thardin had joined Nori on the streets not long afterwards – he saw Nori as more of a brother than his own, who in his eyes was a backstabbing traitor who cared more for the set of frivolous rules that he despised than for his own flesh and blood.

"He probably _is_ dead," Kíli said flatly. "If he left Ered Luin on his own, then I'm sorry, but the world isn't kind to outcasts."

Fíli gave his brother a glare. "Since when did _you_ become so pessimistic?"

"Since I _saw_ the world," Kíli snapped. "Or at least saw the underbelly of it."

Fíli sighed, before grabbing his brother by the arm and pulling him to his feet. He led Kíli back to their bedrolls, stopping only to mutter a hasty apology to a semi-lucid Dwalin, whom he'd accidentally kicked awake. Dwalin merely mumbled something about steaks before rolling over and falling asleep.

"You might have had a little more tact," Fíli hissed, once they were back at their bedrolls, only too aware that Ori and Nori were watching them. "Thardin was clearly a friend of Nori's, any fool could see that. You could perhaps have not stated outright that one of Nori's best friends was probably dead."

"I wasn't going to sugar-coat it for him," Kíli hissed back. "If the truth should, _somehow_, reach him, then perhaps this way it won't come as much of a shock."

"What do you mean, _the truth?_"

Fíli had noticed the slip of the tongue, and he hadn't missed the way that Kíli had tensed earlier, when Nori had started talking about Thardin.

"Just that... he _is_ probably dead!" Kíli replied. "The chances are that he's lying in a ditch somewhere, and will never be found by _anyone_, let alone our people! If somebody _should_ find his body, unless they knew him, they would just probably mark him as an unlucky traveller or something!"

Kíli had said this all very quickly. Fíli scrutinised his brother. There was a note of panic in his eyes – well-hidden, certainly, but _there..._ Also, Fíli had noticed that Kíli was tapping his index finger against his leg, the rest of his hand curled up into a fist. That was the first outward sign Kíli usually gave that he had been put under pressure. He was hiding something.

Fíli finally released Kíli from his gaze. He did not miss the slow release of breath, however, when he turned away.

"We should probably get some more sleep," he said decisively. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

Kíli did all he could not to fall down with relief at these words. He gradually settled down, listening to the whispers of Nori and Ori start up again, and the sound of his brother's breathing. When this had eventually descended into what he knew to be genuine snores, Kíli opened his eyes.

Fíli was asleep, that much he knew. He glanced over at Nori and Ori – the pair now had their backs to him, looking at the forest once again. He quietly slipped off his left boot, and pulled out the only memento he had taken from his capture: a small scrap of cloth with an emblem on it.

-:-

"_No! No, PLEASE!"_

-:-

Kíli shook his head experimentally, as the screams filled his ears once again.

He'd wondered who it had been – who else it had been in the cells under the mountains. Who else had been a victim of the orcs' cruelty. He'd taken this scrap from the discarded shirt and kept it in his boot, hoping that if, in the unlikely event that he ever got back to the Blue Mountains, he could return it to the family with news of his death.

He'd recognised the crest at the time, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen it before...

-:-

"_PLEASE! Oh, Mahal, please, HAVE MERCY!"_

-:-

A thief. That's what they'd told him.

It was only now that he recognised the crest.

Thardin.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry. That is all I have to say. It's not my best chapter, and it may seem a bit random, but it **_**is**_** relevant (or at any rate **_**will**_** be...) And I know I can't write suspense. In a vague attempt that's sort of an experiment to see if this works, I deliberately left some things out in part 1, and will leave a few crucial scenes out in part 2 until the time comes for everything to be explained, otherwise the plot will be very predictable. Apologies for that, but if I do everything in chronological order, it will be remarkably dull, and there will be absolutely **_**no **_**surprises. So this chapter may seem completely random **_**now**_**, and it may seem like it's from a completely different story, but please trust that I sort of know what I'm doing for a bit. I promise you, this **_**will**_** tie in... somehow... **

**Anyhoo, thank you all so much for all the great reviews for part 1! If anyone has any thoughts, good or otherwise, or just how I could improve this chapter generally, or how to write suspense-y things, please do let me know. Now, I've written three chapters while I was in France, and I'm not particularly happy with any of them, but it felt necessary to set the scene a bit again, and every time I tried to re-write them, they just ended up worse than before. **


	23. Part 2 Chapter 2

2

"I really... _really_ don't like this forest."

It was a quiet confession. Fíli knew that his brother had been building up to saying that for some time, and it was for his ears and his ears alone.

"Kíli, we'll be fine, so long as we don't leave the path."

"Or drink any water from any rivers we should cross."

"Or that."

"I... I see what Ori meant last night. I feel too exposed here. _Anything_ could be lurking in the forest, watching us, waiting, biding its time to strike..."

"Kíli, we'll be fine," Fíli repeated in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "If we exercise reasonable precautions, and go at the same speed we've been going at today, we should make it through the forest with minimal fuss."

Kíli didn't look completely comforted, but instead quickened his pace to match Thorin's. They'd been walking faster than usual over the duration of the day, so as to cover as much ground in the past six or seven hours – nobody could quite judge – since the crack of dawn. The pair of them were at the back, mainly so that they could slow down a bit should Kíli's leg hurt him. The youngest dwarf of the company had acquired a large stick which he was using as a walking stick – a requirement set in place by Oin so as to prevent his leg from 'coming out' again, which would only result in them needing to set it again. Fíli assured Kíli that although he may not remember it, he had not enjoyed the first time it had been set.

To say that Mirkwood was dark was a bit like saying that there was more than one grain of sand on a beach. The forest was darker even than the tunnels beneath the Misty Mountains, and everyone (with the exception of Kíli) hated the forest all the more for it.

Fíli still hadn't found out what Kíli had been hiding from him the previous night. He'd opted not to press the issue, but he suspected that Kíli knew something about what had happened to Thardin. If either Nori or Ori had noticed anything about his behaviour, however, neither had said anything.

"So are you going to talk to me?"

Kíli looked up. "We've just _been_ talking."

"No we haven't," Fíli snapped. "We've been _speaking_, yes, but I don't think you've properly talked to me since we were west of the Mountains."

"Yes I have!" Kíli knew exactly what his brother was driving at, but he wasn't going to help him get there.

"_No you haven't_," Fíli said slowly and deliberately. "I have let this slide until now, because I thought that you needed time, but it's been nearly two weeks since you woke, and you haven't said one word to me about... about what happened to you."

"Because I _still_ need time!"

"Kíli, this isn't healthy. Bottling things up – particularly something that big – will only end badly. I want to help you, but I can't do that if I don't know what happened!"

Kíli stopped walking.

"I'm... I'm not _proud_ of what happened..."

"Kíli, I didn't think for a moment that you would be. But I need to know."

"No you don't!" Kíli snarled. "You'll hate me for it!"

"I won't."

"You will!"

Fíli sighed. "Kíli, I'm your brother. I'm not going to hate you for anything that was done to you."

Kíli raised his eyebrows.

"Fíli! Kíli! Keep up!"

The shout ahead had come from Thorin, and Fíli began to jog to catch up. Kíli lingered for a moment.

"What about what I did to another?" he muttered quietly, before limping after his brother.

* * *

Kíli stared into the fire, his eyes following the motions of the flames.

It had been Balin's idea – a warm fire would do much for them after a long day's march, particularly at that pace. The night was so dark that they quite literally could not make anything out. Thorin had been forced to call a halt when darkness fell, after the path had curved slightly without their noticing, and Oin had walked into a tree. Following which he had called for a light, and noticed that he was leading them into the south of the forest. It was pure luck that Oin had chosen then to crash into a tree, otherwise they might have ended up digressing completely from the path and would have been lost in Mirkwood – perhaps forever, if Gandalf and Beorn were to be believed.

Not that Kíli was much happier with the fire than without.

He sat on the outskirts of the group, on the very rim of the circle of light that the fire gave. Fíli had initially kept him company, but the promise of food from Bofur had drawn him closer. Fíli couldn't understand why his brother wouldn't come to fetch his own meal...

Actually, that was a lie. He could understand perfectly. And it had nothing to do with dinner.

It was to do with the fire.

All Fíli wished for was that Kíli would open up to him, to tell him _what_ the orcs had done to him during his captivity. This silence... It wasn't like Kíli. Kíli had always been terrible at keeping secrets from Fíli, and before now he'd never wanted to.

And yet, now Kíli was staring broodingly at the fire, and Fíli had no idea why.

Well, he _did_ have an idea. Whatever had happened to Kíli's hand had been traumatic, to say the very least. He could see that much. The fear in Kíli's eyes as they reflected the elegant dance of the flames was testament to that. Kíli was so terrified of the company's fire that he would rather be cold and dark than go near it. Fíli knew his brother, and knew it was only the greater fear of what lay beyond the circle of light that kept him there.

Fíli finally decided to settle down by Kíli, who gave absolutely no sign of acknowledgement to his renewed presence.

"So what are the flames telling you?" Fíli joked, referring to various charlatans from the towns of men at the foot of the Blue Mountains who claimed that they could tell the future from images in flames when you burnt a specific mixture of herbs – a specific mixture that varied from charlatan to charlatan.

Not that Fíli's attempt at humour provoked any sort of reaction from his brother.

"Is the fire more interesting than me?"

"The fire doesn't want me to have a conversation with it about what happened during a period that I'd rather forget."

Fíli sighed. Kíli hadn't said a word to him since his failed attempt at a conversation earlier.

"So the fire _is_ more interesting than me?"

"Yes."

"Well, you know what _else_ the fire is?" Fíli said. "It's _warm._ You look absolutely frozen – honestly, I could swear that summer doesn't touch these damnable woods..."

The branches above them creaked ominously. Fíli nearly kicked himself for thinking it, but the idea that the trees had _heard_ what he'd said and were... _angry_ about it...

Not that he'd repeat that idea to Thorin.

Fíli had come to a reluctant agreement with his uncle. At Kíli's request, he had forgiven Thorin for abandoning Kíli on the plains surrounding Rivendell, and for dragging him away from Kíli in the Misty Mountains. The latter forgiveness was made easier by the fact that, at the time, Fíli hadn't recognised his brother from a fleeting glimpse.

He hadn't, however, forgiven Thorin for making the decision to remove Kíli's hand. Being forced to acknowledge the fact that Kíli would have died had it not been cut off did not mean that he had to like it – he remembered Kíli's reaction like a knife to his heart. Kíli clearly hadn't come to terms with it completely – in his mind, it seemed... temporary. He knew that it would never come back, but Fíli could see that part of him didn't really believe it – or else didn't know what it meant for his future. There were other things, besides the use of a bow that such an injury prevented.

And Fíli just longed to know how on earth his brother sustained such an injury in the first place.

"Come on," Fíli said encouragingly. "I refuse to allow you to starve yourself, even if I can't persuade you not to freeze yourself to death."

Kíli gave his brother an annoyed glare, before suffering himself to be hauled to his feet.

* * *

Bilbo sat in silence, pulling his blanket more tightly around him. It was about midnight, and Bofur had woken him half an hour earlier for his watch. He huddled closer to the fire, trying his hardest to ignore all the eyes that were reflecting the firelight. Part of him longed to kick the fire out, so that he wouldn't have to see all the eyes. (He no longer completely trusted the naive part of him that told him that the eyes would go away if the fire went out.) But he shuddered to think what the others would do to him if he did – Bombur would probably roast him alive. Also, he could not deny that the flames did provide some source of comfort to him.

As he repressed a shudder, he heard movement from behind him. He spun around, drawing out his little sword, only to find that he had levelled it with Kíli's chest.

"Oh... Sorry, Kíli," he apologised as he put it back in its scabbard and put it back underneath his coat. "You surprised me."

Kíli looked surprised to find Bilbo holding a sword to his chest, but simply shrugged it off. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have been sneaking up on you."

Kíli sat down next to Bilbo – or more accurately, he sat diagonally behind Bilbo, as far away from the fire as he could without being completely unsociable.

"Sorry, I... I couldn't sleep," Kíli said softly. "I saw you were on watch, and I... I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, now."

Bilbo stayed silent, waiting for Kíli to start speaking again – he'd noticed that it was rare for Kíli to start a conversation, so he was slightly surprised to have the youngest of the dwarves coming up to him in the middle of the night.

"It would seem... that I owe you my life," Kíli finally said. "Fíli told me what you did, and I... I can't express how grateful I am."

Bilbo repressed a sigh. In truth, this was not entirely unexpected. He'd had similar conversations with Thorin and Fíli, and he had been waiting for Kíli to come to him with thanks and promises of debts and favours.

"Kíli, you don't owe me anything," he said, trying to force a smile. "I don't _want_ your life to be owed to me. Not by you, or by Thorin, or Fíli, or anyone else."

"Bilbo, you..." Kíli sounded incredulous. "Without you, I probably would have _died_ in that river!"

"I still don't want your life," Bilbo snapped. "I didn't bring you back from there for you to throw yourself in front of a stray arrow or something. I don't want you to become my... to become my _servant_, or whatever you want to call it."

"_Nevertheless,_" Kíli cut over Bilbo. "I owe you a favour. A colossal one. It is entirely up to you whether you call it in or not. But should you, or any of your descendants need my help, or the help of any of my kin, all you need to do is ask."

* * *

The days went by as they slowly ventured through Mirkwood, and Fíli kept a close eye on Kíli. His behaviour had... changed, to say the least. If Fíli started some sort of joke to keep the rest of the company amused, it would be a minute at most before Kíli interrupted with annoyance, or else saying that he wouldn't be joking about such things if he had any sense. He was closed off with most of the company, barely interacting with the others. He did what he was told by Thorin – and _only_ what he was told. He would answer questions if they were posed to him with as short an answer as he could manage, finishing any conversation he was dragged into as quickly as possible. Other than that, he would walk or sit in deep thought.

There were a few people within the company whom he acted unusually around, though. Fíli noticed that around Bilbo, Kíli was attempting to be as helpful as possible, but wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. For example, if Kíli wasn't hungry, (something which occurred with alarming frequency, Fíli noted,) he would tell whoever had cooked to offer it to Bilbo – something which the hobbit rarely accepted; he'd also noticed how Kíli wasn't eating. Various other offers were rejected by the hobbit with decreasing courtesy.

The other person whom Kíli was acting strangely around was Nori. Fíli suspected – though he couldn't be certain – that this behaviour had something to do with something that Kíli possibly knew about Thardin's fate, but Kíli refused to talk about it. As a matter of fact, Kíli refused to talk to Nori at all. The others in the company didn't notice this, given as how Kíli barely talked to anybody anymore, and Nori had never been one to start a conversation with Kíli – the last conversation the pair had shared brought both their tempers far higher than necessary. But Fíli noticed how Kíli avoided Nori's eyes at almost every turn, and would often end up sitting on the opposite side of the fire they started whenever the company stopped.

In addition to Kíli's refusal to eat, Fíli noticed something else about Kíli – he barely slept. When he did, it was hardly restful. He would mutter incoherently, turning over and over, unable to get comfortable, before waking up violently, and then usually he would refuse to attempt to sleep again.

In an attempt to try and help his brother return to his old self, Fíli tried to get Kíli to spar with him when they could. Events where it was practical to do this were few and far between, given as how Kíli flatly refused to practise with an audience, and there was not enough space or time to practise during the day, and there wasn't enough light to practise by night. When the pair _did_ find some time to spar, Fíli noticed how the loss of Kíli's hand was affecting his swordplay. Kíli's old fighting style relied quite heavily on having two free hands, so that he could adapt quickly to the surroundings. It was clear that Kíli was trying hard to find a new style, but every so often he would slip back into his old habits – for example, if Fíli appeared on his left side, rather than turning, he would attempt to throw the sword which Beorn had lent him into his left hand, and then never catch it.

"It's hopeless!" Kíli grumbled one evening as he stooped down to pick up the sword. It was more of a long knife in the eyes of men, but to Kíli it was long enough that it could be used as a short sword.

"No, Kíli, it's not." Fíli had tried time and time again to be patient, but Kíli's feeling of self-worth was so low that he was past reason. Fíli flinched as the sword slipped from Kíli's grip, and Kíli all but screamed in frustration and kicked it towards the makeshift fire. To get around the issue of it being far too dark to practise, Fíli had taken a stick, wrapped a cloth drenched in oil around the end, and used it to make a torch, which he'd propped up against a stone.

"Why can't I _ever_ seem to adapt?" Kíli shouted. "I'm just weak, useless, and I can't even pick up my own – damned – _sword!_"

Fíli repressed a sigh, retrieving Kíli's weapon from below the fire. Kíli still couldn't bear to go close to any form of fire, and Fíli had given up trying. He'd watched his brother lose almost everything that mattered to him, and this had been his last attempt at getting something back – and it wasn't working. Kíli had fallen back against a tree, burying his face against his knees, his hands holding down his neck. If Fíli had seen his brother look so dejected as he did now, he could not remember it.

Kíli raised his head weakly to look at the hilt Fíli was offering him.

"You're never going to get anywhere if you give up at the first little setback," Fíli said softly.

Kíli reluctantly took the hilt, before getting to his feet.

"Ready?"

The fight began with Kíli's nod. All of a sudden, Kíli no longer saw Fíli as his brother, but as an opponent – highly skilled, and in his experience of fighting in skirmishes, (nothing he had ever fought in could ever really qualify as a battle,) ruthlessly set on killing him.

Fíli attacked first. He ducked the first blow, which sailed over his head, before bringing up his sword to meet Fíli's second blade. He forced that one over his head and ducked out from underneath. He backed off a little, keeping Fíli and his many blades completely within his field of vision.

But Fíli wouldn't stay that way for long. He plunged his first blade forwards, which Kíli leapt back to avoid. He'd always been agile, but he hated spinning, or fighting across himself – hence their last halt. Not that he was going to make the same mistake again. Fíli appeared on his left, and he spun around, trying to fight off the slight dizziness that shook him. He blocked the first blow, pushed back the second, and dodged the third. Unfortunately, the tree to his right meant that Fíli had ended up in his least favourite place – left of him. He was fine, provided that the enemy stayed to his right, or in front of him, or behind him. But Fíli was determined to get Kíli to practise dealing with his left side. He spun around again, this time flatly ignoring the dizziness.

Fíli, however, had predicted that move. He ducked the sword that sailed over his head. _That was too high..._

What he didn't predict was Kíli not moving out of the way of the raised sword that stood in his arm's path. He drew it down quickly, alarmed and shaken by the red blood on it. Kíli let out a gasp of pain, and the sword, once again, slipped from his grasp.

The fight immediately stopped, and Fíli dropped both his own blades and hurried over.

Kíli looked in shock at his arm. It stung, certainly, but Fíli kept his blades meticulously clean, and it was shallow. If he was lucky, he wouldn't even need to see Oin. But that meant that their sparring session was at an end...

_You're never going to get anywhere if you give up at the first little setback._

Fíli suddenly grabbed Kíli's arm, inspecting the cut.

"Kíli, I'm... Oh, Mahal, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm-"

Kíli's foot suddenly hooked itself around his ankle, and Kíli threw his arm outwards at the same time that he pulled his foot back in. Fíli went sprawling backwards into the dirt. In the time it took for him to realise that the fight wasn't over and pull out a small dagger, Kíli had picked up his sword and had it pointed at Fíli's throat.

"That wasn't fair," Fíli protested, looking apprehensively up the short blade.

"Fighting rarely is."

Fíli took his gaze off the silver blade and looked up at Kíli, who was grinning like a cat who'd successfully managed to steal not only the cream, but also the salmon that had been kept especially for dinner that evening. Kíli lowered his sword and held out a hand for Fíli to take.

"Exploit your enemy's weaknesses," Kíli said, referring to the many times when they were younger when Fíli had pulled similar tricks, or else had won fights by brute strength that Kíli couldn't, at the time, match. "You taught me that."

"Aye, I... I did..." Fíli was still reeling from the fact that Kíli had reverted to such an underhand strategy, and more so that he had fallen for it. "Would you like to try and beat me fairly this time?"

Kíli tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. But once Fíli had gotten over his own stupidity, he was actually quite pleased about what had just occurred. True, Kíli hadn't exactly been fighting fairly, but a win was still a win, and it had done wonders for Kíli's self-esteem. Fíli had never gone easy on his brother, not least because his brother would see through it in seconds, and it would hurt Kíli's self-esteem more if he felt that Fíli _needed_ to go easy on him, and even more so if Kíli then _lost_ the fight. Besides, an enemy would never go easy on him in a battle, and Kíli needed to be prepared for the worst. Hence these midnight sparring sessions, so that Kíli could make the mistakes _now_, when it wouldn't matter, as opposed to in a fight against an orc, when the price could very well be his life.

"Ready?"


	24. Part 2 Chapter 3

3

"We can camp here for tonight."

The shout that came from Thorin was met with relief from most of the company, but there was one exception.

"Thorin," Balin began, ever concerned for the success of the quest. Despite his initial scepticism about how they were going to break into a dragon-guarded mountain to steal a dragon-guarded hoard of gold without alerting said dragon to their presence and suffering a painful and fiery death, the wizened dwarf clearly cared a lot for their mission. His desperation to succeed was only surpassed by Thorin's. "We delayed too long at Beorn's, and we haven't exactly been going at the ideal speed needed to put this wretched forest behind us. We can't afford to stop now, you know that!"

"Yes, I do."

"So why are we stopping?"

Thorin gestured to the river flowing beside them. "Unless you have an idea of how to get across this river, I strongly suggest that we stop now. We don't have much daylight left, whatever pathetic excuse for light there _is_ in this forest is fading, and I have no desire to attempt any hare-brained scheme needed to ford this river without touching the water in the _dark_."

Balin looked down at the river, clearly analysing it. Thorin waited to hear his verdict.

"I think... there might be a boat."

"A boat?"

"Yes, there – can't you see it?"

"No... are you sure you're not making this up?"

"Thorin, your sight is failing you in your old age... Look, right there. On the opposite bank."

"You're pointing at a tree."

"No, I'm pointing at the thing _tied_ to the tree."

"There's nothing tied to the tree..."

"Yes, there is – _oh, for goodness' sake_, Fíli! Come over here!"

Fíli looked up from unpacking his bedroll, completely unaware of the argument between the two eldest members of the company. He came over, looking mildly confused.

"What am I meant to have done now?"

"Come and tell me if you can see this boat that Balin thinks he's seen," Thorin ordered.

"Can you make it out? It's tied to the tree, just there."

Fíli squinted into the darkness.

"Well? Can you see it?" Thorin asked.

"...Err... No, there's nothing there..."

"It doesn't really look like a boat," Balin said. "It's more of a... raft..."

"No, there's nothing... Sorry..."

Thorin sighed. "Fantastic," he muttered. Despite the fact that he hadn't been able to see anything, a small part of him had been hoping that there _had _been a boat. It would have solved all their current problems.

"Fíli?"

"Aye?"

"I think you're looking at the wrong tree."

"Oh?"

"Can you see the large oak?"

"Which one?"

"The one standing inconveniently right in the middle of the path."

"Yes, that's the one I'm looking at... There's no boat, raft, or object that looks like it might float anywhere attached to it."

"I'm pointing to the one to the right of it."

Fíli's eyes flicked to the next tree along. His eyes travelled down the length of the trunk, looking for some form of rope tied around it.

"Hold on... _Yes!_ Yes, I can see a boat!"

Thorin looked at him in delight. "Can you?"

"Yes! Well, as Balin said, it's more of a raft, but-"

"How far away do you think it is?"

"I... really can't judge..." Balin said. "Fíli?"

"Ah... Maybe... Maybe ten yards? Kíli, can you come and help me with something?"

"Hmm?" Kíli appeared at his brother's side.

"We think there's a boat we can use to cross the river."

"Oh! Where?"

"Can you see the tree in the middle of the path on the opposite bank?"

"...Yes..."

"Look to the right of it – No, Kíli, that's left – The next tree along."

"Yes, I... I can see it."

"See if you can see a rope tied around the trunk."

"I... can just about see it..."

"Follow the rope down to the-"

"Yes, I'm not an idiot, Fíli, I... Oh, _wow_, is that _really_ what counts for craftsmanship in these parts?"

"Yes, I admit it doesn't look very boat-like. Now how far away do you think it is?"

"Erm... maybe ten yards, maybe more... Bilbo!"

And so they repeated the process with Bilbo, who found it far easier than the dwarves to locate the boat, his eyes being far better in this sort of light. Dwarves were good at seeing long distances in tunnels – provided that there was a decent bit of light to start off with. However, when there was very little light, such as in the darkness of Mirkwood, they were at a loss.

"I'd probably say it's about twelve yards away," Bilbo said.

Thorin let out a string of curses in Khuzdul which Bilbo was at a complete loss to understand. "We can't reach twelve yards away!"

"And we could reach ten?" Fíli asked.

Thorin gave his nephew a glare, showing that he didn't care for his humour at this point in time. "To get across, we need the boat. To get the boat, we need to get across! How on earth do we get around that?"

"Hold on," Bilbo said, his mind racing. "Does anyone have any rope? And maybe a hook?"

"That won't help, it's tied," Kíli pointed out.

"Have a little faith – you never know, our rope may be stronger."

"The rope there would need to be pretty strong, the river's already a fast flowing torrent," Balin said.

"And _who_ says our rope _isn't?_"

"Because I have no doubt that _that_ rope was made by the same people who made the path we are currently traversing. _Our_ rope was made by our people in the Blue Mountains," Thorin stated. "Who, while skilled in many crafts, are not famed for their rope-making skills."

"Nevertheless, I think it's worth a try," Bilbo said. "You might find that elvish rope is weaker than you imagine. Also, do you have a _better_ idea?"

Thorin surveyed the suddenly decisive Bilbo, before finally nodding in assent. "Fíli, do you think you can throw that far?"

"Easily."

The rope and hook sailed in a high arc through the air, before...

"Too far left," Kíli muttered.

The hook landed on the far bank, just next to the boat. Fíli didn't think he could bear to look at his brother's smug expression. He tentatively pulled the rope back in, only touching the wet rope when he could no longer afford not to, before casting it out again.

"Too high," Kíli muttered once again.

As soon as Fíli released it, he knew he'd got the angle wrong, and didn't need Kíli's observation to tell him that he'd released the rope too late. The arc was indeed too high, and also not long enough. He was sorely tempted to pull the rope back in as soon as he'd let go, to spare his brother the satisfaction of knowing that he was right. As it was, the rope landed in the water with a deeply annoying splash, and Fíli pulled it back in with increasing frustration.

"Don't say a _word_," Fíli warned, as Kíli came along to help him.

"I wasn't going to. I was simply going to point. Your arm should be in line with mine when you release it."

"Because, of course, _you're_ the expert on hook-throwing."

"Maybe not," Kíli said quietly. "But until recently, I _was_ the expert on archery, and some of those skills – for example my level of accuracy – were not lost with my hand."

"Modest as always," Fíli murmured as he prepared to throw the rope again.

This time, when he released the rope, he knew he'd got the throw right. He hadn't used his brother's help, of course not, but his hand _did _end up in line with Kíli's, and this time, the hook landed in the centre of the boat.

"Told you," Kíli muttered.

"Stop being smug and help me pull."

The two of them pulled on the hook, dragging the boat towards them, until both ropes were taut, the boat caught somewhere in the middle. Balin and Dwalin came to the aid of Fíli and Kíli, but they couldn't pull it any further.

Thorin then came to their aid, along with Dori, Bifur, Bofur, Gloin and Oin. "On three," Thorin said, taking charge immediately. "We pull sharply. One... Two... _Three!_"

The rope jerked, and the boat moved a couple of inches closer. The knot around the tree was loosening.

"One... Two... _Three!_"

The boat shifted again.

"One... Two... _Three!_"

This time, the knot on the opposite bank came completely undone, and everyone pulling on the rope fell backwards rather inelegantly. Thorin looked most displeased about being caught in the middle of a large pile of dwarves, but by the time he'd extricated himself enough to see what was going on, he saw something that made his heart stop.

Everyone had let go of the rope, and the boat was trailing down the river.

"For goodness' sake, somebody grab it!"

Bombur ran forwards, and lunged for the rope. His hands closed around the cord, but he lost his footing, and slipped over into the river.

"BOMBUR!"

If it weren't for the fact that Bofur was still stuck beneath a large pile of dwarves, he _would_ have rushed to pull Bombur out of the water. As it was, Kíli rushed forwards – having been lucky enough to fall sideways as opposed to backwards – and reached his hand into the water to pull Bombur out.

Kíli managed to lift his leg out of the water, and that was enough for Fíli and Dwalin to get a decent grip on him. Together they pulled Bombur out, only to find that the fattest dwarf in their company was fast asleep, his hands closed tight around the rope holding the boat.

"Is everybody alright?" Thorin asked, finally free of the dwarf pile.

"Bombur's gone to sleep," Dwalin called out. "But other than that, I think we're all fine."

"Fíli?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Fíli said.

"Kíli?"

"Yes, I'll..." Kíli's voice was faint, and he sounded exhausted. "I'll be fine in a minute... Once I've had a little..."

"Oh no you don't," Fíli snapped, pulling Kíli to his feet. "You touched that water, if you go to sleep now, who knows when you'll wake up!"

Kíli swayed uneasily on his feet, before falling forward against Fíli, who slapped him, hard, around the face. "Wake – up! I am not going to carry you across the river if you fall asleep!"

"No... That's what the boat is going to do... Goodnight..."

Fíli would have regretted what he did next, if it hadn't worked. As it was, he simply let go of his brother, and Kíli fell forward, and his face slammed into a tree. He jerked awake suddenly.

"That wasn't funny!" Kíli yelled at Fíli.

"It wasn't meant to be, it was _meant_ to wake you up!" Fíli snapped back. "Now for goodness' sake, get in that boat with Thorin and Bilbo and me before you fall asleep again!"

By the time Fíli had successfully guided his brother into the boat, Bilbo had come up with an idea. He untied the rope that had, until recently, been tying the boat to the opposite bank, and re-tied it so that the rope would span the width of the river. He then asked Thorin to throw the hook into the branches of the trees on the opposite bank, and handed the rope he'd just re-tied to those waiting to cross the river.

"So we pull ourselves across the river using the rope we threw into the trees," Bilbo explained. "And once we're across, those waiting on this bank can pull the boat back using _this_ rope."

Fíli settled Kíli down next to him, but Kíli leant back, as though he were about to lie down. But Fíli hit Kíli hard around the back of the head, and so Kíli slouched forward, still looking slightly dazed.

"Is he alright?" Bilbo asked.

Fíli nodded, helping Thorin pull them across. "He's usually like this when he's severely _drunk_, not tired. When we're on the opposite bank, I'll let him sleep for a bit."

"When has Kíli _ever_ been severely drunk?" Thorin asked frostily. It took Bilbo a second longer than it should have to work out what Thorin was getting at.

"Never," Fíli said with a smirk, catching Bilbo's eye. "This is a purely hypothetical scenario, which would only occur in at least three years time, given as how I'd _never_ let him get hold of any ale, wine, or other alcoholic substance until then."

Thorin raised a sceptical eyebrow at Fíli, who glanced at Bilbo and mouthed behind his uncle's back: "He usually sleeps it off at Bifur's house." Bilbo allowed himself a little smile, not just at the idea of Fíli sneaking a hung-over Kíli back into the house, but at Thorin's expression of displeased resignation. He had no doubt that Thorin knew _exactly_ what his nephews got up to in the evenings, and had known for some time, and had been forbidden by the boys' mother from putting his foot down.

The boat scraped against the opposite bank, and Thorin helped Fíli get Kíli out of the boat and settled down against a tree, where Fíli gave up and finally allowed him to go to sleep. As Thorin pointed out, he was going to sleep anyway, they weren't going to continue until first light, and if he didn't wake up at a sensible time, then there was nothing anyone could do about it, and he was far more preferable than Bombur to carry.

* * *

_He wanted to run, but he couldn't move. It wasn't the bonds around his wrists and ankles, it wasn't the hands that held him there, it was fear. He was frozen, his wide eyes staring at what was before him._

_Rough hands threw him forward, but he didn't even react. He fell forward, like a plank of wood, he didn't even bother to put a hand out to break his fall. He tried to keep his hand rigid by his side as he realised with a sickening horror what was about to happen._

No. It was a dream, it had to be a dream. He'd had them before. Any minute now, he would wake up.

Wouldn't he?

_A hand reached out, and pulled his arm out from beside him. He struggled against it, but whoever had grabbed it was stronger. But he couldn't let it happen._

_Fear unlike any that he'd ever known shot through him. He knew what would happen, yet he was powerless to prevent it. His breathing became fast and ragged as his eyes fixed on the fire that was right in front of him._

Please. Oh, please, no...

_His arm was thrust into the fire, and he felt once again the sickening pain of burning flesh. He cried out, unwanted pleas tearing themselves from his lips. He was begging for mercy, but his assailant did not oblige. Not this time. As the blisters began to burst open, and the skin around them began to peel back, exposing raw flesh, the cavern was filled with the sickening smell of cooking meat. But it smelt different to what he was used to – too many scents blending together as his hand became little more than a grilled joint of orc meat . _His _meat._

_Tears spilt down his cheeks as bile began to rise in his throat. His pleas blended together to form one incomprehensible cry of sheer agony and desperation, when suddenly, he was thrown back. The pain didn't leave his hand, it still felt like fire, and the image of the flames was burnt into his eyes. He sobbed, yet through fire and water, he saw his assailant for the first time, and he couldn't believe his eyes..._

"Kíli!"

His eyes flew open. The fire was gone, but the water remained. But his nightmare wasn't over – dream blended with reality as he realised that the person who had held his hands in the flames was still there, standing over him. His hand, somehow undamaged again, closed around the hilt of the weapon that lay by his side, and he suddenly leapt up, and slashed open his enemy's face, rolling over so that he pinned the figure of his nightmares beneath him.

The entire camp went silent with shock at the sight of Kíli, kneeling on top of Thorin, the tip of his knife pointing at his uncle's throat.

* * *

"Uncle, I'm so sorry..."

It was pathetic, and Kíli knew it. His eyes travelled over the cut that Oin was now tending to, the cut that ran from the bottom of Thorin's left cheek, between his nose and lips, and finishing directly below his right eye. The cut that he, Kíli, had made.

"It's all right," Thorin muttered gruffly. "It's not the first cut I've had, and I guarantee that it won't be the last."

Kíli was shaking. He suspected what had happened. The effect of the water had put him into a deep sleep, augmenting his already vivid nightmares. He hadn't touched enough of the water for long enough for him to go into the deep sleep that Bombur was apparently in, but the enchantment had served to bring to light old memories that had then plagued his nightmares. He'd apparently, according to Fíli, cried out a lot, thrashing around enough to wake the entire company (save Bombur,) and somehow, he'd gotten the Thorin in his dreams – the person who'd aided the orcs in capturing him, then kept him captive and tormented him – confused with the real Thorin – the hero of his childhood, who had tried to wake him, who had stood over him and defended him on a cliff-top – and attacked him. Then, when he realised what he'd done, he'd dropped the sword and staggered away, unable to believe what had happened.

"Kíli?" Bilbo handed him a cup of tea, which he'd acquired the leaves for at Beorn's house, and had kept them safe, just in case he needed them.

Kíli gave Bilbo a weak smile, attempting to force himself to calm down. He took a sip, and found the warmth of it spread through him, settling comfortably in his stomach.

_Like I deserve such comfort..._

"Thorin, I'm... I am so, _so_ sorry..."

"Kíli, it's fine." Thorin smiled gratefully as he accepted the cup of tea Bilbo offered him. " _I'm_ fine."

"No, you're... you're _not!_" Kíli's voice rose half an octave as he began to get hysterical. "It's not in _any_ _way_ 'fine'! I slashed your _face_ open!"

"Kíli, it's a cut!" Thorin shouted, his volume matching Kíli's. "It's very shallow, and if I'm lucky, it shouldn't even leave a scar!"

He was bending the truth slightly. True, it was a cut, but it was deep, it _would_ leave a scar – one that would never heal fully, and Kíli was perfectly aware of both these facts.

"Yes, _this _time, it's a cut!" Kíli said, sounding close to tears. "But what about next time? It could be your throat I slice open, or your abdomen, or-"

"What do you mean, next time?"

Thorin had lowered his voice, his tone one of forced calm. Kíli looked uncomfortable, panicked, even. He took a shuddering breath before he spoke, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"I've... I've been having dreams..."

Fíli opened his mouth to speak, but Thorin held up a hand.

"Dreams where... Where _you're_ the one who... who..."

"Kíli."

That was all Thorin needed to hear. He stood up, ignoring the protest of Oin, and took his youngest nephew's hand in his own.

"What's happening to me?" Kíli asked, his voice so quiet that only Thorin could hear him.

"Kíli, look at me."

Kíli reluctantly forced his head up, his dark eyes looking straight into his uncle's.

"You're recovering from something that I've seen cripple many others. Outbursts like tonight are to be expected if you don't talk to someone. We can help you. If you don't want to talk to_ me_ about what happened, then talk to Fíli, or someone else. We can help you – we _want _to. I've seen what you're doing before, in others who have gone through similar things, and I've seen actions similar to yours destroy them. It doesn't matter how strong you are when your enemy is yourself."

"I've..." Kíli gasped, "I've done... terrible things..."

"And I forgive you for them," Thorin said. "Whatever you've done, you did not do it of your own free will."

"I..." Kíli breathed. "The longer I stay with you... The greater danger I will become to you."

Thorin's heart began to race, but before he could even think about what to say...

"I'm sorry."

"Kíli-"

Before anything else had a chance to leave Thorin's mouth, Kíli threw Thorin's hands down, and turned into the forest, sprinting away from the path.

* * *

**A/N: No, Kíli has **_**not**_** learned from his mistakes.**

**So that's the end of the France updates! I hope you all enjoyed that little opening of part 2, sorry that it took so long to get going. Hopefully the next few chapters will be a little more fast-paced. And I know I had **_**wa-a-ay**_** too much fun with retrieving the boat – I never meant for it to happen, particularly Kíli getting... drunk, it just... did... I have absolutely no idea of whether or not it worked, and will probably come back at some point to edit it, (which I usually hate doing,) but please let me know what you think!**


	25. Part 2 Chapter 4

4

"KÍLI!"

Thorin held out a hand in vain to try and stop the retreating figure of Kíli, a vaguely familiar panic rising in his chest. _Not again... Oh, please, not again..._

Images flashed through his mind of the last time Kíli had run off without a thought for his own safety. The pony trotting into Rivendell's courtyard, its flank stained red with blood... Kíli being cast at his feet by Azog... Fíli clutching his barely conscious form, broken to the point where he feared his nephew was beyond repair...

He didn't think he could bear it if it all happened again.

He was brought abruptly back to the present by a second figure rushing past him.

"Fíli!" Thorin grasped at Fíli's back, his hands closing around thin air as Fíli disappeared into the forest.

His shout was echoed around the camp, and Thorin flung a hand out just in time to stop Bilbo from doing for Fíli what Fíli had done for Kíli.

"NO!" Thorin pulled Bilbo back, his eyes following Fíli's path until he could no longer make out either of his nephews in the dark. _This could not be happening again..._

"Do we follow them?" Balin asked.

It seemed like a lifetime ago when this had last happened. He had made so many wrong decisions then, and Kíli had paid the price for them. Now, confronted with the prospect of losing _both_ his nephews – those whom he'd sworn to his sister to protect...

"Thorin!"

_This time, they're together._

_But we may never see them again._

_It may not end like last time._

_But the chances are that it will._

"Thorin! Do we follow them?"

The words of Gandalf and Beorn came back to him. _"If you stray from the path, you will probably never find your way again, lost forever in the depths of Mirkwood."_

He knew that if he left them now, he would probably never see Fíli or Kíli again.

But if he left the path now to follow them, he would probably never see Erebor again.

_They're together._

He had to think of the quest.

This had happened before. And he'd made the wrong decision before. And he made the same decision as last time.

"We continue on," Thorin finally said. "We cannot risk the chance of reclaiming Erebor for the sake of two."

In his heart, he knew he'd made the wrong choice.

* * *

Kíli didn't know how far he'd gone before he finally came to a small clearing, when he suddenly came to a halt, his energy completely drained. He collapsed down onto the floor, his face buried in his hands.

Sobs wracked his body as his memory shot back to the scene he'd just fled. He'd tried so hard to listen to Thorin's words, but he'd found that he couldn't take his eyes off Thorin's face. The mess that the scar had made.

That _he'd_ made.

His heart clenched as comprehension hit him – he _was_ capable of doing that. He had _done_ that to one he loved. One he'd loved his whole life, his _kin._

He'd made the right decision, hadn't he? If he could do that to Thorin, how easy would he find it to attack Balin, or Bilbo, or one of the others... His heart seemed to freeze painfully as he thought of Fíli with a scarred face.

He'd seen the fear rise in Thorin's eyes, he'd seen the horrified realisation in his uncle's visage just before he'd ran like the coward he was, but one day, Thorin would realise that it was for the better...

Perhaps...

It suddenly dawned on Kíli just how alone he was. True, he feared what else he would do if he was still with the company, but here, now, _alone_, he suddenly realised just how quiet it was. Silence pressed against his ears, deafening, loud silence. Mirkwood was never silent. True, nobody had seen hide nor hair of another creature since they entered, save for the eyes, but you could always _hear_ the forest teeming with life. Good life, bad life, it was always there, disturbing his sleep. With the others, he'd found the endless rustling scary, but now, alone, without it, the silence that replaced it was more terrifying than he could have imagined.

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap from behind him. He shot up to his feet, his eyes scanning the dark for any sign of what could have snapped the twig, but nothing showed itself.

_It's probably nothing... Probably just a squirrel or something..._

His pathetic attempt to calm himself fell flat, as his eyes shot around the clearing. It probably _was_ just a squirrel, but his mind filled itself with images of monsters, praying on stragglers in the dark of Mirkwood, as he wondered just what it _was_ that could make Mirkwood so completely still...

The hair began to prickle up on the back of his neck as his mind went into overdrive. His eyes shot up and down over the shadows of trees, scanning the ground for some sign of what it was out there... What had he heard from the stories? _Ungoliant._ Giant spiders. Was that what was out there?

Somehow, putting a face to the monster in the dark calmed him. He knew what he was up against, didn't he? Spiders he could deal with.

_Unless the stories were wrong..._

He'd seen spiders crawl around the forest floor. Looking down now, he could see nothing. No insects creeping over the leaves. His eyes scanned the trees. There were usually webs on every second tree, but here, now... _nothing..._

_If giant spiders are nearby, why would the little spiders flee?_

A twig behind him snapped, and he fled once again into the forest. His eyes flew left and right as he ran, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever hidden horror it was that was making this part of the forest so quiet. He had no idea if it was spiders – or something else.

Kíli slowed to a halt as he broke into another clearing, straining his ears to catch some sound. He strained his ears over the silence, but whether he hoped to hear something or nothing was a question he couldn't answer. Yet as he strained his ears, he could have sworn he'd heard, dimly, in the distance...

No. The water must still have left some form of after-effect. He could not have heard that voice.

Azog could not be in Mirkwood.

He was quite as alone as he had been the first time he'd encountered the pale orc – just as alone, and just as unarmed. In his rush to leave, he hadn't taken anything. He just needed to get away from them all, before he could do any more damage. But he found himself wishing he was back there.

And he hated himself for it.

Yet he couldn't stop the cry from leaving his lips.

"Fíli?" he called out, his voice cracking through the unnatural silence.

He stepped backwards, his hands rising to his mouth. It was only then that he realised he was shaking. He staggered backwards towards the edge of the clearing – he could not endanger his brother, he was unsafe, he was a monster, he'd proven that time and time again – first with Thardin, and then with Thorin. He didn't need Fíli's blood on his hands...

He suddenly became very aware of his surroundings once again, and had a horrible feeling something was behind him. His breath was coming in short, jagged gasps.

"Help me…" he gasped. "Oh please, Mahal, NO!"

He spun around, and found himself face to face with...

A tree.

He let out a breath as he stepped away from it. _It's only a tree. It's only a –_

His reassurances to himself were cut short by the sound of footsteps crunching on leaves behind him, that he knew in his heart that he hadn't imagined. He froze, as the steps came closer and closer to him...

He stepped forwards, preparing to run, before his foot caught on a tree root and he was sent sprawling into the dirt. Unwanted tears spilled from his eyes as every emotional wall he'd built since his reunion with his brother came crashing down, and he rolled over, curling up in a childish attempt to protect himself as the sound of steel against leather rang out in the darkness.

* * *

"Kíli!" Fíli screamed out as he ran after his brother. He'd tried to keep him in sight, but it had not taken long for the dark hair to mingle with the surrounding blackness as Kíli had sprinted ahead. However, he was thankful that his brother was not making any attempt to cover his tracks. It made him far easier to follow.

_By me and anyone else._

He suppressed the unbidden thought as it sprang to the forefront of his mind. He had seen the speed Kíli had taken off at, running as though Sauron himself was behind him. Though how long Kíli would be able to keep up the pace was a mystery to him.

_Please... Mahal, keep my brother safe..._

He'd already lost Kíli twice. He couldn't lose him again.

It felt like at least an hour had passed before he finally staggered into a clearing – completely deserted. But Kíli had been here, Fíli could see that. But he couldn't run anymore. He needed some time to recover his breath – even if only a minute. He fell to the floor, hating every second he spent idle. Kíli was out there in the forest, unarmed, and he was lying down, _recovering his strength. _His mind seemed to spit out those words at him like they were poison.

It seemed to take an age before his breathing returned to normal. He staggered to his feet, preparing himself to continue the chase, when he suddenly heard a voice that made his blood freeze.

"Well, look what we have here."

Fíli didn't get a chance to turn before he felt the tip of a sword dig into the small of his back.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about that ending... I know it was cruel...**

**Actually, no, scratch that. I'm not sorry at all. Well, maybe a bit. And I'm sorry about Kíli's experiences in the forest. I don't think I did it justice. I really wasn't sure how to write it, but I really wanted Kíli to have a psychotic breakdown at some point, and Mirkwood seemed like the best place to do it. Unfortunately, that meant I had to write it from **_**his**_** point of view, and it took some doing to get inside his head. I have no idea if this is accurate or not, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.**

**Anyway, thank you all for the reviews of the last three chapters! I'm glad people enjoyed the opening of part 2, but now we're really getting to the exciting bits, which you should hopefully enjoy even more!**


	26. Part 2 Chapter 5

5

"_Pathetic,_" spat the voice from above Kíli, as they surveyed the emotional wreck.

Kíli slowly raised his head to look up the length of the sword. The blade was a fine piece of craftsmanship, the silver appearing to gleam in the darkness as it gently tapered to a fine point. His eyes trailed over the steel to the hand holding it, before finally reaching the hooded head of his assailant.

A second figure quite literally dropped down beside the first one. "Look at what you have there, Thindor," said the second figure. "A dwarf in a forest. It's almost as bad as an elf in a coalmine!"

Laughter came from the surrounding trees – terrifying, beautiful laughter.

"Where are you?" Kíli gasped out, his eyes flying from tree to tree.

"Surrounding you," came a third voice – female, this time. "We saw your little... ah... _breakdown_ earlier in the clearing. What was it that you were running from again?"

"Tauriel, that's enough," barked the second voice. "I've no love for dwarves, particularly not when they _invade our home, _but that doesn't mean that I'm going to allow you to torment one ruthlessly. Thindor, lower your sword."

"What? Legolas, I-"

"He's not a threat," Legolas said, his voice remaining calm. "Not to us, at least. He's unarmed, weak, and I do believe we've just witnessed him having some form of mental breakdown. He won't try to run, and even if he does, he won't get far. Now for goodness' sake, I gave you a direct order."

Thindor glanced down at Kíli, before sheathing his sword with an element of reluctance. Kíli found himself calming down considerably. Of all the enemies he had in the forest, elves seemed the least likely to cause him to suffer a slow and painful death. The elf who seemed to be in charge – Legolas – lowered his hood, releasing a cascade of silvery hair.

"Look at me," Legolas said, his voice calm but commanding. Kíli found his eyes drawn upwards, as though some other will resisted him. Legolas' expression was cold as their eyes met – startling blue with dark brown.

"What is your name?"

Kíli remained silent, uncertain of whether or not to answer.

"What..." Legolas' voice suddenly grew much more dangerous, "is your name?"

"Kíli," Kíli finally answered, his voice small. "Son of Dís."

"Where are you from?"

Kíli lowered his eyes, knowing that if he answered this question honestly, it would lead to endless questions about his current whereabouts.

"Ered Luin," he finally replied in barely more than a whisper.

There was an outbreak of muttering from the trees, and Legolas raised his eyebrows. "Tell me, Kíli, son of Dís, what is a dwarf from the Blue Mountains doing so far east?"

Kíli bit his lip, before pursing his lips together, slowly shaking his head. He could not tell them – not without betraying his kin. And then, right on cue, there was a shout from the treetops, and a fourth figure burst into the clearing, an elf close behind. There was the ringing sound of several blades being drawn.

"Fíli!"

Fíli finally came to a halt, looking around for whoever had called his name. His eyes fell on Kíli, and then on the elves standing over him, their swords drawn. With a surge of anger rising in his chest, he drew his own blades, turning to face the elves.

"I would not advise fighting us, _dwarf,_" Legolas said, his eyes flashing dangerously. "We outnumber you two to one on the ground, not to mention the fact that there are more arrows pointing at you right now than you could possibly imagine."

"Step away from him!" Fíli raised one of his blades level with his chest.

"Oh, is he..." Thindor's gaze slid down from the newcomer to Kíli. "Is he your travelling companion?"

"I have to say, it did intrigue me to see a dwarf travelling through these parts alone," Legolas said with a laugh. "Are there any more of you out there?"

"I said _get away from him!_" Fíli screamed.

Laughter tinkled from the trees, followed by a pronouncement in a language which neither Fíli nor Kíli had any hope of understanding. Thindor raised his sword, but Legolas held out a hand to stay him, before replying to the elf in the trees in the same language. The words were an indistinguishable blur to the dwarves, but neither missed the reprimand in his voice.

"My company think that I ought to execute you where you stand," Legolas said softly.

"Is that what sort of place Mirkwood is, then?" Fíli snarled. "Where captains can execute travellers without a fair trial before the king?"

"No," Legolas replied. "However, it would be so _easy_ to tell my king that you made an attempt on my life. You, unlike your companion, are hardly defenceless, and it's not exactly a lie, now, is it? My king would hardly doubt my word. It would be so simple to ensure your companion's silence, but I wouldn't even need to, if this ever came to that. Who do you think the king would believe – a highly respected captain and his troops, or a begging dwarf, mentally unstable, a hostile trespasser in this land?"

"If it is such a simple task, why haven't you _done_ it yet?"

"Because I think there is something more to it than defending a companion. You must have travelled far together, for you to risk getting lost in the forest for his sake. Perhaps from the same place. You look so _very_ alike, despite the initial differences." Legolas nodded to their hair, in stark contrast to each other's, "My guess would be that you are related somehow. Perhaps... you are brothers?"

Kíli's widening eyes betrayed them. Thindor, who was watching Kíli for any move against them, nodded to Legolas as soon as he'd noticed this. Legolas allowed a small smile to grace his features at this confirmation, before issuing his next command.

"Bind them."

"What?"

Fíli stared, alarmed, as Kíli scrambled away from Thindor, who pulled a rope from a bag at his side. He scrabbled away, struggling to find his feet, panic clear in his eyes. His back hit the base of the tree, and he finally hauled himself up. Fíli had last seen his brother like this decades ago, back when he was a child, barely reaching Thorin's knee. Something in the forest had scared him – badly.

A surge of anger welled up inside Fíli. Before he had any idea what he was doing, he rushed forwards, pushing Thindor to the ground. His sword was too long for the fight to be used effectively, but he slammed the hilt against Thindor's head, before an arrow sailed through the air, whipping through Fíli's hair and planting itself in the ground.

One of the elves dropped down from the tree, bow drawn, knocking an arrow into the bow as she strode towards them.

"_That_ was a warning shot, _dwarf!_" she shouted. "Now let me tell you how this will work! You will get away from _him,_ surrender your weapon and any other weapons you may have, or I swear, next time I won't miss!"

Fíli surveyed the scene. Another three elves had dropped down, and Kíli had his hand tied awkwardly behind his back. Fear was evident in his eyes, but it wasn't fear for himself. His brother's eyes were fixed on the arrow pointing at his head. He sighed. It was no use fighting now. He knew when he was beaten. If they shot him dead, Kíli would still be taken with them, and on top of everything else, Kíli would have to contend with yet another trauma, of watching him get shot dead. If he stopped now, and with a bit of luck, the only thing that would be damaged would be his pride. And he'd learnt long ago that pride was not worth fighting for.

The sword clattered to the ground, and Legolas kicked it out of reach. With a certain element of reluctance, he stood up and undid his belt, tossing it down in front of him – the fast way to get rid of all his various knives that he kept on his person at all time. Thindor pulled himself out from underneath Fíli, staggering slightly – the blow had taken more out of his opponent than Fíli thought. Legolas held out a hand to steady his friend, who simply leant against a tree, muttering what were no doubt elvish curses.

Once all his weapons lay before him, Legolas picked up the belt, pulling out a dagger from its sheath and turning it over in his hands. Fíli tried not to let out a growl of protest as Legolas discarded individual weapons into the dirt like they were nothing, but there was nothing he could do while his hands were being tied behind his back. If Legolas knew he was being watched like a hawk, he didn't care, throwing the knife Kíli had given him two years prior into the mud, where its hilt stuck out of the dirt like a pathetic marker for a passed soul. However, when the elves were done tying Fíli's hands behind his back, he looked up, nodding to the elves who were standing by his side. With that unspoken signal, they both stepped back, and Legolas knelt down before him.

"Now let me make one thing quite plain," the elf breathed, his voice so quiet that only Fíli could hear his words. "If you lay another finger on _any_ of my soldiers again, you will pay for it with your life. Is that understood?"

Legolas' tone hadn't changed significantly, but there was an edge to his voice that had not been present before. It was hard and cold, and spoke of someone who was willing and more than capable of killing him. The blue eyes had hardened, reminding Fíli of ice. Of the level of coldness that burns to the touch, freezing itself onto the skin and refusing to come off. With an edge of reluctance, and an expression that he hoped matched this captain's, he nodded.

Legolas straightened up, turning towards Thindor, who was still leaning against the tree. At Legolas' dismissal, two of the elves pushed Fíli towards his brother, earning a scowl for their trouble.

"You shouldn't have followed," Kíli muttered.

"When are you going to get it into your head that wherever you go, I go?"

Kíli tilted his head slightly, a weak smile curving his lips.

"Are you alright?" Fíli asked.

Kíli nodded. "I just got scared... A few noises in the dark, it's... It's nothing."

Fíli raised his eyebrows, but if there was more to what Kíli had felt, Kíli wasn't going to talk about it. _Just like everything else..._

Suddenly a shout came from above them.

"_Yrch!_"

"What?" Fíli asked, certain that it wasn't good.

"Orcs," Thindor translated.

"It can't be," Tauriel said. "Orcs don't come this far north."

Fíli noticed Kíli's look of wide-eyed panic as the elves began to discuss what they were to do in their own tongue. He wanted to comfort Kíli in some way, but it was hard with his hands tied behind his back. Kíli's own hand was tied to his waist, which he supposed was the elves' answer to only having one hand to tie.

"We move out!" Legolas ordered. "We get these dwarves alive to the king. We could probably take that scum but it would probably cost us, and to be honest I'd really rather not incur any more casualties."

Fíli's heart clenched. His eyes met with Kíli's, and it was clear that they were both thinking the same thing. _The company._

"What about our family?" Kíli suddenly blurted out without thinking.

"Kíli-"

"They're still out there, if there are orcs out there, they could be hurt!"

"Oh, so there _are_ more of you!" Thindor said, realisation dawning on him. "What would a family of dwarves be doing in the Greenwood?"

"Thindor, _not now!_" Legolas hissed.

"We were travelling east," Fíli said, as something occurred to him. "Our business is not _in_ Mirkwood. It is in the lands beyond. Please, we have the blessing of Lord Elrond of Rivendell!"

This final pronouncement was clearly of some interest to Legolas. "Really?"

Fíli nodded.

Legolas raised his eyebrows. "Lord Elrond is less wise than I thought. Let's go!"

A few of the elves hauled Fíli and Kíli to their feet, shoving them after Legolas, just as Tauriel said something in elvish that was clearly of great amusement to her company.

"We _can_ walk!" Fíli hissed indignantly to the elves. "And what did she just say?"

The elf behind them smiled. "She said that the Noldor scum can damn themselves to hell for all she cares."

* * *

"What was that?"

What was left of the company turned around at the sound. The sound was not the usual rustling of the wildlife of the forest, but heavy footfalls. Too heavy for an elf, possibly a man – or something worse.

Thorin motioned at them all to be silent. He peered out into the darkness, while Balin made sure that everyone was awake, save Bombur, whom Bifur and Bofur had slung an arm around as a precautionary measure. In the darkness, just beyond the circle of light from the fire, he thought he could just about make out a figure – taller than he was, standing in the middle of the path ahead of them, watching them.

"Hello?" he called out.

There was no movement. Perhaps it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. Still, he needed to be certain.

"Who's there?"

He hated himself for it, but Thorin almost jumped when he saw the figure move. Judging by the sharp intake of breath from behind him, he wasn't the only person to have seen it. There was no doubt about their existence anymore, but whether they were friend or foe remained to be seen. Though Thorin was forced to acknowledge that unless Beorn had followed them unexpectedly, they _had_ no friends in this forest.

"Show yourself!" Thorin ordered, pulling Orcrist from its sheath. His stomach clenched at the sight of the blade.

It was glowing bright blue.

His attention suddenly snapped from the sword to the figure. They had something in their hands now...

_A bow._

He froze for a split second as he recognised the object, but suddenly, the figure jolted its hands upwards.

This movement seemed to free Thorin from his fear-induced paralysis. He ducked down with a shout.

"GET DOWN!"

The bowstring was released with a snap, and the company were saved by sheer luck. The arrow missed those who hadn't managed to duck in time, and sailed over Thorin's and Balin's heads, planting itself firmly into a tree trunk.

"_RUN!_"

The company didn't need to be told twice. Most of them took off back down the path, all of them forgetting the obstacle that they'd just crossed, leaving all their belongings on the ground. The problem was Bombur. He was awkwardly slung up over Bifur's and Bofur's shoulders, as they ran together. Thorin held his ground, Orcrist drawn, hoping to get some time for the others. However, barely thirty seconds had passed before –

"Thorin! The river!"

He spun around to the rest of the company. They stood on the bank of the river they'd slept by.

"It's blocking the path!" Dwalin shouted.

They were trapped.

If they stayed where they were, they would be killed. Orcs never hunted alone, and when they ventured into unknown territory, they went in numbers that far outnumbered the company. A fight would end quickly and badly. There was no time to cross the river on the boat. If they were to escape this fate, there was only one option left.

"Then leave the path!"

-:-

Perhaps it was the fact that aside from the path, it took a very well-trained eye to distinguish different parts of Mirkwood, or else the speed they were running at, but it seemed to Dwalin and Ori that they had gone a very long distance in a very short space of time. They were both in the lead, so as long as Ori could see Dwalin just in front of him, and Dwalin could hear Ori crashing along behind him, neither were worried. At least, they weren't, until they stopped for a minute in a clearing, just to catch their breath.

"Did we lose them?" Dwalin gasped.

"I... I think so..." Ori said, looking out into the darkness. "Hold on – where are the others?"

Dwalin looked around, as though half-expecting them all to come crashing through the trees. "Oh, those _bastards!_" Dwalin kicked a tree. "No offence meant to your brothers..."

Ori did his best not to panic.

"We're done for!" Dwalin snapped. "We've lost them! How could we lose them? We're as good as dead now!"

"Don't say that," Ori implored.

"We have no food, no weapons and no idea where we are! In what way are we not '_done for_'?"

"We could try and find the others," Ori suggested.

"Oh, yes, now why didn't _I_ think of that?" Dwalin snapped sarcastically. "Oh – hold on, could it have something to do with the fact that we have no idea where _they_ are, in addition to the fact that this forest is completely impassable? Get a _grip_, Ori!"

"Well, then why don't _you_ think of something? Instead of just _moaning_ about how we're as good as dead!"

The outburst was completely unexpected and out of character from Ori, and it was this that shocked Dwalin into silence. Ori looked surprised at himself.

"Sorry," Dwalin muttered gruffly.

"It's forgiven," Ori replied. "Now what are we going to do?"

"Climb a tree and call the eagles?" Dwalin suggested, not being entirely serious.

"We... We could... The only thing I can think of doing is trying to find our way back to the path..."

"How are we going to do that?

"We could follow our tracks," Ori said. "And then, if nothing else, _we_ get out of the forest, and then maybe we could seek out Gandalf and see if he could help us find the others... But what if whoever shot at us is still there?"

"Well, then, our weapons will still be there, and we can take them in a fight."

"If we could take them in a fight, then why did Thorin tell us to run?"

"Because he's an idiot."

Ori looked at Dwalin, his expression a mixture of confused and scandalised.

"Well, he _is,_" Dwalin stated flatly. "He's been making the wrong decisions ever since we reached Rivendell. Perhaps, once, he would have been a great king, but losing Kíli turned his head. Don't get me wrong, I care for that lad a _lot_, but Kíli's made a lot of stupid decisions, and there are times when Thorin has to choose between Kíli and the quest, and every single time, he's made the wrong choice. He made the wrong decision letting Kíli come, he's not even of _age!_ And consequently, this quest has suffered for it. We should have gone looking for Kíli sooner at Rivendell, immediately after the orcs fled. When we were on that cliff, Thorin shouldn't have forced Kíli to fight. We spent too long at Beorn's, waiting for Kíli to recover. Thorin knows all this, and he knows that he shouldn't have ordered us to leave the path. But he wants to find Fíli and Kíli – if they still live – and that's probably one of the reasons he ordered us to run rather than fight."

Ori blinked at Dwalin. He had no idea the warrior harboured such thoughts. Dwalin had never shown anything but support for their leader, and yet to hear these doubts – which he doubted even Balin knew about, scared him.

"You can't repeat any of this, by the way," Dwalin asserted. "Not to your brothers, not to Fíli and Kíli, assuming that we ever see them again, _especially_ not to Thorin, don't even repeat it to Balin."

Dwalin fixed Ori with the glare that he usually reserved for those he faced in battle, and Ori was scared into a nod. Dwalin's expression smoothed over, before he turned back the way they had just come.

"Right, shall we see if we can find this path?"

The pair walked in silence, Dwalin's eyes focused on the tracks beneath him while Ori followed behind, his eyes scanning the forest around them, looking for any threat. Nothing broke their system, nothing interrupted their journey, until...

"Dwalin..." Ori murmured.

There was a moment of stillness as Dwalin stopped, his eyes still fixed on the ground. "What?"

"I think we've been here before..."

Dwalin finally looked up irritably, took one glance at his surroundings, then focused on the tracks. "No we haven't."

"Yes, I... I think we have..."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because ten minutes or so ago, I dropped my scarf. And now I've just found it again."

"Maybe you dropped it on your way here. In which case, congratulations, you've just found your scarf again."

"No, I had it in the clearing. And at some point on the way back, I dropped it. I didn't want to say anything, because in the scheme of things, my scarf isn't the most important thing in the world, but we _have_ been going in circles."

Dwalin looked down more closely at the tracks. It was clear now, so blindingly, frustratingly clear, that in the mud, the boot prints were going in the same direction as them. He should have paid more attention to the tracks themselves, not just the broken undergrowth. It had been so easy to turn from the path and follow the tracks of some animal.

"Damn," Dwalin breathed.

"Sorry-"

"_DAMN IT!_"

"Er, Dwalin-"

"What a _brilliant_ idea!" Dwalin snarled – he knew in his heart that he was wrong, that _he'd_ been the one who'd been leading the way, but he wasn't in a good mood, and Ori was, sadly, with the wrong person at the wrong time. There was a look of abject terror on his face as Dwalin unleashed his rage onto the younger dwarf. "'Let's retrace our steps!' What could _possibly _go wrong? Oh, wait, we could get more lost than we already are-"

He stopped abruptly as a twig snapped behind him. It was only then that he realised that Ori's wide-eyed fear was not focused on him, but on something just above his head.

Dwalin's stomach clenched. He froze, trying to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine.

"What... was... that?" he mouthed at Ori.

Ori looked completely incapable of answering, his mouth opening and shutting soundlessly as he stared up at the unseen foe behind Dwalin. Slowly, Dwalin began to turn his head, until he could turn it no more. He could make out that there was something behind him – something large, and going by Ori's expression, something dangerous. He wheeled around, looking up at his opponent – if there was any thought of a fight with only knuckle dusters – and he saw where they were. The peril he had led himself and Ori into.

They were standing on the edge of a spider's nest.

* * *

**A/N: So I know lots of people were excited to see Legolas and co... And Dwalin's having doubts... **

**Anyhoo, thank you all for the lovely reviews for the last chapter! I should probably warn you – updates may be a little slower than usual. This is because we are entering exam mode, and apparently, during that period, I'm not allowed to have any time to myself because otherwise I'll FAIL DRAMATICALLY AND CHAOS WILL ENSUE AND MY FUTURE WILL BE RUINED AND I'LL BE HOMELESS BY THE TIME I'M THIRTY EVEN THOUGH I PLAN ON BECOMING A SINGER WHICH DOESN'T NEED EXAMS BECAUSE APPARENTLY FOLLOWING MY DREAM THAT I'VE HAD SINCE I WAS SIX IS A REALLY STUPID THING TO DO AND I'LL DIE AHHH! Yep, that is essentially my school's attitude. Anything that isn't academic, or you can't put a grade on, must never cross the boundaries of our pri- ah, I mean school. **


	27. Part 2 Chapter 6

6

If Bilbo had learnt one thing during this quest, it was that the key to any situation was to keep your head. When you lose your head in a stressful situation – for example, when you are running low on food, or you end up in a fight, or you happen to be being chased through an impassable forest by a person or persons unknown, but with known hostile intentions, having lost your friends, who you rely on for protection, and your food – bad things tend to happen.

However, if Bilbo had learnt another thing, it was that keeping your head in a very stressful situation, such as being chased through an impassable forest by a person or persons unknown, but with known hostile intentions, having lost your friends, who you rely on for protection, and your food, is a very difficult thing indeed.

His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, clenching with terror at the thought that every step he took could have been taking him further and further away from his friends, so that he may never find them again. Yet he couldn't bring himself to stop, for fear of being found by something less friendly than the average disgruntled dwarf from the west mountains.

His foot suddenly caught on a tree root, and he was sent sprawling into a ditch. He did his best not to cry out as pain exploded above his knee, not knowing what creatures would leap out of the darkness onto him if he did. He rolled over onto his back, feeling his hands along his leg. Pain flared up when he tried to move his knee, and he panicked that it might be broken. Everything felt so... _wrong..._

He was no expert at healing, but he figured that a break would feel drastically different to his other knee. He ran his hands along his other leg, and nothing _felt_ different. Indeed, he couldn't see anything particularly different – when Kíli had broken _his_ leg it had been sticking out at the most unusual angle. He breathed a sigh of relief. Mirkwood at night was not a good place for a hobbit with a broken leg to be alone. And if it wasn't broken, or bleeding, then it would be fine, wouldn't it?

His pathetic reassurances did absolutely nothing to help him when he tried to get up though.

His first attempt – the one where he was confident that nothing was too badly wrong – failed completely when he tried to stretch his leg out and ended up falling over. The next attempt, if possible, went even worse, when he stepped down onto an uneven bit of rock, covered in mud, where he slid over comically. The third attempt involved hauling himself up with the aid of a tree. He finally stood up awkwardly on one leg, but he found that stretching his leg out was nigh on impossible, hissing with pain when it reached its limit.

And that's when he heard it.

Amplified in the forest, by the silence he hadn't noticed, he heard the crunch of weight on leaves, coming from his left. In his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of a looming shape coming towards him. He turned around as quickly as he could with his leg the way it was, pulling out his little sword – which he was surprised to realise had never left his person since his expedition at Beorn's – and holding it out in front of him.

A spider, the size of the Windlord, was rushing towards him. Perhaps it was particularly stupid, or perhaps it was blind, or perhaps Bilbo was incredibly lucky, with incredible timing, but somehow, the spider didn't notice the small sword, and rushed straight into it, screeching loudly as the blade sunk into its skull. Bilbo wasn't sure how he managed to keep his feet, given as how the force of the impact sent shocks down his arm, but it was only when the spider's life was finally extinguished, the weight of its body being supported by his sword and hand alone that he finally collapsed backwards.

"What on earth..." Bilbo muttered aloud to nobody in particular. He stood up, looking down at the creature. The last time he'd killed something, anything he'd felt had been immediately eclipsed by the cocktail of other emotions he'd felt. He'd never really had the chance to experience what it was like to take a life. He'd not really been given much chance to dwell on it either.

Yet here, now, he was alone, standing over the corpse of a creature that he'd stolen the life from.

_It was it or me._

The feeble attempt at morality was not enough to calm him. The spider may have been the one to attack him, but it was probably seeking out food. He could relate to that – he'd felt the pangs of hunger many times in Mirkwood. Before the quest, even, he would go down to the market in Hobbiton, seek out the butcher, and get several prime cuts of meat for dinner. The blood had never before been on his hands – it was a farmer's job to kill.

And yet, as he glanced down at the sword in his hand, and the spider lying on the floor... He felt...

_Powerful_.

He had the power to take down this huge beast. A surge of pride swelled in his chest at the thought. He didn't need the dwarves to defend him, he could look after himself now.

"You're not the only one with a sting in their tail..." he muttered, walking away from the body.

He glanced down at the little elvish blade. The sting in his tail. His sting.

_Sting._

-:-

He had been walking – or hobbling – aimlessly for the best part of ten minutes when he heard noises up ahead. He froze, tense, praying that it was one or more of the dwarves, or if not, that it would pass by, not noticing him. He slipped through the shadows as best he could, given his leg, putting his ring onto his finger as he did so. He came to the edge of a clearing, and was quite glad that he'd taken precautions.

Spiders, like the one he had killed, seemed to have built a nest. There were a series of bundles strung up – large bundles of varying sizes. He counted them. Six were strung up on a tree, one was lying on the floor, next to a spider who was currently wrapping up an eighth. As he watched the spider work, something fell from the bundle. Something about the ring meant that he could see much better in the dark when he wore it, and he could just make out the shape of a slingshot on the ground.

_Ori._

The spiders had the dwarves.

There was a loud clicking from behind him, and Bilbo spun around, thinking that something must have seen him, before remembering that he was invisible. A spider was coming towards him, pincers clicking together in what Bilbo could only assume was some sort of crude spider-language. He pressed himself flush against a tree, waiting for the spider to pass by, noticing the figures it was dragging along the floor, tied together with a thread. He counted them as they passed – Bifur, Bombur, Bofur.

That made eleven.

Eleven dwarves were in that clearing. Bilbo assumed that it was Fíli and Kíli who were still missing, given as how others had done their best to stay together, and Fíli and Kíli had run off considerably earlier than they had. Unless of course they had somehow alerted the spiders to the presence of dwarves in the forest...

_What am I going to do?_

He slumped down by a tree, running his hands through his hair, refusing to look at the monumental problem ahead of him. If he did nothing, how long would it be until the dwarves were killed? Or were they dead already?

As if on cue, he heard a loud cry of indignation in the voice of Bombur. _Well_, Bilbo thought ruely, _at least _he's_ alive..._

He peered round the tree, glancing once more at the spiders. Any power he'd felt earlier had completely evaporated at the sight of some twenty or so spiders, and had been replaced with a sickening weight of responsibility in his stomach that he just wasn't ready for. The spiders were currently bashing the fattest bundle – Bombur – around, playing with their food before they finally went for the kill.

"Dratted arachnids..." Bilbo muttered, sitting back down with a huff, kicking a bush as he did so.

The noise behind him immediately stopped. Bilbo's heart clenched in the silence as he realised what he'd just done.

There was some more clicking behind him, before he heard the heavy thuds approach him. Bilbo pulled his knees up into his chest as he saw a spider's head appear between the tree he was sitting against and the one next to him. It peered down at the bush, before looking around the area. Twice the eight eyes glossed over Bilbo, the second time lingering on the spot he was sitting in.

It seemed an eternity before the spider moved away, clicking as it did so.

Suddenly, a plan began to form in Bilbo's head...

He pulled out his sword, recently christened Sting, and kicked the bush again, this time dashing across to another tree, a little further away from the colony. The spider emerged again – Bilbo could only assume it was the same spider – and this time, when the spider reached the clearing, it decided to trample on the bush he'd just kicked.

It was then that Bilbo kicked up a few leaves that coated the floor.

The spider looked up at the new disturbance. It took all of three seconds for the spider to abandon the bush, focusing instead on the leaves that were fluttering gently to the floor.

Bilbo crept up behind the spider as it paused, looking down at the leaves on the ground. The spider kicked a few of them, before looking around to see what had caused the disturbance.

And that was when Bilbo struck.

Bilbo thrust Sting as hard as he could into the spider's abdomen. There was a screech, and Bilbo realised that he had struck true, as the spider's legs curled beneath it, into the sword thrust. Bilbo suddenly let go of Sting, jumping backwards as the spider fell down, rolling over until it leant against a tree.

He heard more clicking, followed by much faster footfalls as more spiders ran out into the forest to aid their fallen friend. Bilbo wrenched his blade from the spider's sinew with a huge amount of force, before fleeing back to the clearing from the oncoming horde of spiders.

Somehow, being in the presence of more spiders who had no idea he was there was far more preferable to being in the presence of fewer spiders who had an understanding that he was in their midst. So while all the arachnids were focused on the disturbance he'd created on one side of the clearing, he slipped over to the other side of the clearing, praying that this would work.

He kicked the base of the tree with all his might, sending a pile of leaves clustered around the base up in a swirl.

It worked. One disturbance meant... well, a disturbance, a dead spider meant a problem, a second disturbance meant an ambush – at least, to the spiders. They scattered, looking _everywhere_ for an undetermined number of enemies of an undetermined race, leaving a grand total of one standing in the centre of the clearing. Bilbo quietly crept back towards the dwarves, his mind calculating the risk of what he was about to do.

The one remaining spider posed a huge problem, as it looked everywhere for any threat, its back to the dwarves as it protected its precious bounty. Bilbo could cut the dwarves down and pray to whatever deity was up there that he could get the dwarves to safety before any of the spiders realised that there was a problem. The chances of the spider _not_ noticing the dwarves escaping, however, were slim.

His only other option was to kill the spider while its back was turned. In his experience, however, spiders did not die quietly. The death of the spider would alert the remaining arachnids to the danger posed to their prize, and he could not deal with an entire nest of the creatures, invisible or no.

Still, if the spider saw him, the rest of the spiders would come back anyway. He was left with one choice – and he could only hope that it would pay off.

He crept up in front of the spider, and took a deep breath. His eyes fixed with the many eyes of the creature before him, that stared blankly through his neck, looking for the enemy before him. Bilbo raised the sword, and thrust it through the spider's head.

No screech emanated from this spider – instead it simply fell, any sound dying with the light in its eyes. Bilbo stepped back, as the weight threatened to crush him. He pulled Sting from between the creature's pincers, before rushing back to the task in hand.

Time was against him. Perhaps if he'd had more time on his hands, he might have attempted something a little more dignified for the dwarves, but as it was, he couldn't afford any time to waste. He needed to cut the rope suspending all the dwarves six feet from the ground, before cutting them out of the cocoons they lay nestled in, constructed from the same thread that the spiders span.

Still, that posed a slight logistical problem.

Even standing on the tips of his toes, with Sting stretched as high as he could, he was still at least a foot beneath the rope. He tried jumping, slashing at the thread at the peak of his jump, but the pain in his knee flared up as soon as he landed. There was only one thing for it – he needed to climb a tree.

With a certain element of reluctance, he placed his foot on the trunk, sheathing Sting as he reached above his head. He hauled himself up onto the first branch, before drawing Sting out again, reaching for the rope with all the grace of an oliphaunt attempting to waltz.

He swung Sting high into the air, and felt the impact as the short blade slammed against the tree.

The rope snapped, and there were the muffled grunts of eleven barely conscious dwarves slamming into the floor – the cocoons seemed to offer no protection against falling from a height. However, they _were_ down...

He clambered down from the tree as quickly as he could, racing over to the dwarves. One of the bundles was wriggling, as its occupant clearly struggled to escape. Bilbo rushed over to the bundle, cutting out the dwarf as quickly as he could, and out fell...

Dwalin.

"Dwalin! Get up!" Bilbo hissed, as Dwalin simply collapsed onto the floor, oblivious to all danger surrounding him. He did, however, look up at Bilbo's voice.

"Who's there?" he mumbled groggily, looking at Bilbo's left shoulder.

_Oh._

Bilbo wrenched his ring from his finger, before attempting to pull Dwalin to his feet.

"Dwalin, _get up!_"

Dwalin staggered to his feet, before Bilbo started talking very quickly.

"If you have a knife, could you please cut everybody else out of the bundles?" Bilbo gasped, turning to look for an oncoming horde of spiders. Before he decided he could do without manners. "Cut the others out of the cocoons _quickly!_"

"Balin, did you put something in my drink?" Dwalin's words slurred together, and Bilbo had the impression that he had no idea what was going on.

"_DWALIN!_"

"_What?_" Dwalin replied, his tone matching Bilbo's.

"Dwalin, we are surrounded by spiders and I swear, if you don't help me right now, I'll save these oversized arachnids the trouble by killing you _myself!_"

Well, he _was_ stressed.

Dwalin blinked a few times, taking into account the surroundings, and Bilbo, who was currently red-faced and brandishing a sword. He passed a hand over his face.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get the others out before the spiders come back!" Bilbo snapped.

Dwalin pulled out a small dagger and with no small amount of grumbling, he cut out another dwarf from another bundle. Bilbo could never say, in all honesty, that he had ever been happier to see the grumpy face of Thorin as he staggered to his feet.

"What's going on?" Thorin grumbled, making more sense than Dwalin had when he'd emerged.

"Spiders..." Bilbo offered. "Big... Big spiders..."

Thorin drew Orcrist out, ignoring the remnants of spider thread sticking to the handle, before instantly taking charge. "You help Dwalin get the others out, I'll slay any creature that dares come near."

So with the help of Dwalin, they managed to extract Dori, Nori, Ori, Bombur, Gloin, Oin, and Balin. Some were in better shape than others, but they only had Bifur and Bofur to extract from the cocoons when the spiders returned.

And when the arachnids did, they outnumbered the dwarves.

"So, Master Baggins," Thorin said, his eyes travelling round the enclosing circle of spiders. "What's the plan now?"

This had always been a weak spot in the feeble imitation of a plan that Bilbo had come up with. In truth, he had been hoping that the spiders would stay away long enough for the dwarves to escape, but if he was being honest with himself, the chances of that happening were next to nothing. An idea popped into Bilbo's head, and he didn't particularly _want_ to do it, but there was nothing else for it.

"Thorin, I'm going to quite literally disappear and attempt to draw the spiders off. Use that time to run."

Before Thorin could say anything else, Bilbo slipped on the ring and ducked between the spiders. He slashed at the flank of one of the creatures, before rushing through the trees, doing his best imitation of 'dwarven racket.'

The spiders rushed after him, following the trees as they whipped back as he ran through them. He heard the sound of fighting behind him, and kept the Khuzdul war cries within earshot.

Bilbo almost immediately stopped the chase when he heard the fighting stop, adopting stealth rather than speed. He hadn't run far – he couldn't have been running for more than five minutes, and he slipped back along the path he'd carved through the forest. His heart leapt when he saw the dwarves, and he was on the verge of pulling off the ring, when he heard a slow clapping come from above him.

"Well, that's the first time I've seen _anyone_ escape from a spiders' nest without outside help," said a soft, melodious voice, and an elf with a sheet of blonde hair dropped down right in front of Bilbo, a cut on his head. "And a group of dwarves, no less. My king will be _very_ pleased."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the delay... Work has been slowly suffocating me. I mean, seriously, seven mocks in a week? I'm only taking four subjects...**

**Ok, so in short, this is likely to be the last update for a while. Exam season is upon us (you can tell, the weather's finally getting good...) and I'm actually going to need to **_**revise**_** for these ones – seriously, don't know what's happening in maths at the moment, haven't had even the faintest idea what's been happening in chemistry all year, so these exams are going to be fun... And basically, that means no updates for an undeterminable time because I literally won't have time to write. I know, there are 2 things I want to do with my life, and they are both being forced to take a backseat to exams for jobs that I'm unlikely to ever want...**

**So I hope you enjoyed that chapter... I felt the need for Bilbo to kick some more arse, because let's be honest, he's awesome. Not entirely sure about the ending, but I am **_**not**_** rewriting that again... Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Again, sorry I didn't reply to any, but I've had a hard enough time finding time to write this chapter, let alone reply to any reviews, or – god forbid – **_**socialise**_** with people outside of school... Again, important things in my life are being forced to take a backseat to exams...**


	28. Part 2 Chapter 7

7

Kíli's eyes widened at the sight ahead of him.

A cell. Four stone walls and a door made up of bars. So very like what he'd seen in the goblin tunnels. And he couldn't go back. Mahal knew he couldn't get locked in a cell again. Even if his captors were more merciful this time, he couldn't deal with being locked up again like an animal. Sound suddenly seemed to shut itself from his mind, and all that inhabited his world were himself, the door, and the hands pushing him towards it.

"Kíli?" Fíli said, his voice lancing through the barrier of sound that had been set up around him.

"Please..." Kíli gasped, his breath coming in shudders. "Please, I... I can't go in there... Please, not again..."

His hand found Fíli's, encasing his brother's in a vice-like grip as panic rose in his chest.

"Kíli, it's alright," Fíli said reassuringly, attempting to squeeze his brother's hand. And it would be fine, provided they stayed together –

Which suddenly became increasingly unlikely as the elves wrenched their hands apart with surprising strength.

Kíli suddenly began to fight the elves, frantically pushing to get away from the cell, fighting to return to his brother. The prospect of being separated again became so very real as their voices rose in an indistinguishable din.

"No!" Kíli begged as the door opened. "No! Fíli, _please!_"

"Kíli!"

Fíli was shoved down the corridor.

"Kíli, it'll be alright, I promise! Just hold on!"

Kíli fought frantically as he was slowly forced into the cell. "Fíli, please! Please don't leave me!"

One final push sent Kíli sprawling onto the cell floor and the door was finally slammed shut.

"Let me out!" Kíli gasped, frantically scrabbling to reach the cell door, using the door as leverage to haul himself up. "I said _let me out!_"

"Maybe if you tell us what we wish to hear, we'll consider it," Legolas replied, his expression smooth, giving nothing away. "If not, then I'm sorry, but you're staying right where you are. Anyway, I thought dwarves _liked_ stone."

Kíli lunged forwards, his hand stretching through the bars, but Legolas drew back sharply, as Kíli's fingers closed on air. With a final disgusted noise, Legolas turned away from Kíli, following the rest of his contingent as they dragged Fíli out of Kíli's sight.

* * *

Bilbo would have in all honesty been impressed with the room he was in, had it not been for the predicament he was in. There were highly polished oak panels covering the walls, with intricate carvings towards the top. The ceiling was high, and was supported by pillars carved to look like trees – indeed it was only the way that the roots blended seamlessly into the floor that told him that there were not trees growing out of the ground within the room. The smooth marble floor echoed every time one of the dwarves shifted under the hard gaze of the owner of the room – the only being in all of Arda who could enjoy the level of luxury afforded here. The Elvenking of Mirkwood sat before them in a carved throne set on a marble pedestal, behind which hung a banner of his father – the sigil identical to the one adorning the flag that had fluttered in the breeze outside.

The dwarves had been knelt on the floor before the Elvenking, and were surrounded by guards in shining armour, clutching spears. Bilbo, however, had slipped everybody's notice, and stood to one side of the scene, pressed against the wall, invisible thanks to the ring on his finger. In comparison to the company they were in, and where they were positioned, the dwarves did look particularly dishevelled – their beards were unkempt, braids were coming undone, twigs and spider webs were caught in their hair and clothes, their clothes were coated in mud, and yet, somehow, they still carried some level of pride that left them completely silent at the question they had just been asked.

"It is not a difficult question," the Elvenking said wearily. "Answer me."

Silence reigned over eleven dwarves and one invisible hobbit.

"You heard the king!" snarled the leader of the group who had caught the remaining dwarves. "What are your names?"

Still, there was no answer.

"Right," the Elvenking said, getting gracefully to his feet. He didn't sound angry, just... resigned. "So a group of dwarves enters my realm without my permission, leads a group of orcs further north than they have ever come, arouses the spiders that have plagued my people, attacked my general's second-in-command, and now refuses to answer a simple question? Is your race really such a set of imbeciles that you do not know when you are defeated?"

"We did not _attack_ him!" Balin snapped indignantly. "If you're referring to the cut on his head, we did nothing of the sort!"

"Oh, so you mean to tell me that you're _not-_"

"Thindor."

The name was spoken without any heat behind it – indeed, the tone was so blank that it could have conveyed anything. Yet Thindor fell silent, his tongue stilled by the command.

"You think that your exploits have gone unnoticed?" the Elvenking said softly, his tone threatening more danger than the spiders. "A group of dwarves scattered the goblins from the mountainside. One of this company, I know by name, at least. Thorin Oakenshield, your reputation precedes you. But it is not _your_ name I wish to know." Piercing blue eyes met with Thorin's, before sweeping over the rest of the group. "I wish to know the names of your companions. I wish to know who they are, and why they follow you. To what end are you going? What did you promise them that made them so willing to waste their lives for you?"

"We are merely visiting our kin in the Iron Hills," Dori cut in. "It is long since we have seen them-"

"Silence," the Elvenking hissed. "If I wished to be lied to, I would ask my son what he was doing a week ago."

Laughter broke out around the room, quickly silenced by the Elvenking sitting back down in his throne.

"I am not the enemy you should fear, Thorin Oakenshield," the Elvenking said, his tone finally betraying a hint of anger. "In another time, our kingdoms were allies. We all stood united by a common foe – the same foe, I suspect, that darkens my land. I fought beside your ancestors – I knew your namesake. Our races were never, perhaps, friends, but we were allies. I wish that no war would come to my land, yet here it is, brought on by other races, and all too often, we are forced to choose sides in conflicts we would much rather stay out of. Jewels have ever corrupted the hearts of other races, and soon an entire race would be damned to hatred by another, and by association, our people have never been close."

"And I will not be won over by pretty words from the tongue of a snake!" Thorin snarled.

"Thorin Oakenshield, once again, I am not the enemy. You entered _my_ kingdom, bringing your own enemies with you. We simply responded to such a disturbance."

"Then let us be on our way, and we will take our enemies with us," Balin suggested.

"Disturbing how many of mine in the process?" the Elvenking rose to his feet once again, sweeping around the room. "You would brave the passages of the Misty Mountains. You would pass through Mirkwood, with all its dangers, and for what? All I wish to know is why you would do such a thing. I could help you, perhaps, if such a quest was in my favour."

"And what help would you give?" Thorin growled, anger rising within him as he thought back to the last time he had asked the elves of Mirkwood for aid. "You would turn away like cowards at the first sign of trouble!"

"ENOUGH!" the Elvenking silenced the room, raising his voice for the first time since the dwarves had been brought in. "I gave you the chance to tell me willingly, yet you respond with insults. Thindor, take them to the dungeons and lock them up separately until one of their tongues is loosened."

Bilbo scurried backwards as elves all around hauled the dwarves to their feet, before they were led away from the throne room. Bilbo toyed with the idea of lingering – he was no prisoner after all. He hadn't removed the ring, and he hadn't been counted amongst the dwarves by the elves. His mind raced, as he desperately thought for _something_ to do – knocking either the Elvenking or Thindor out appealed greatly apart from the small inconvenience of the guards around the room who would shoot the dwarves at the sight of any harm to their king or commander – but he was forced to face the reality that if something were to be done to prevent the dwarves being imprisoned, he had missed his window. If anything were to save them, it would need to be some form of escape plan.

* * *

Kíli sat in the corner of his cell, in the one spot where the door was not visible. He nearly laughed at the irony that he – a dwarf of Ered Luin and second in line for the throne of Erebor, should it ever be reclaimed – was claustrophobic. This simple dusty cell terrified him. He took small comfort that the elves of Mirkwood were not the goblins of the Misty Mountains, and therefore far less likely to force him to commit similar atrocities to those he had performed in the Misty Mountains – of which he had spoken to nobody. He was also far less likely to be subjected to the same level of humiliation as a caged animal, merely a spectacle.

"Hey! Fíki, or whatever you said your name was!"

_Although, having said that..._

"It's Kíli," he ground out, reluctantly moving into view of the door, where the elf who'd shot at Fíli stood, hood down, revealing red hair that rivalled Gloin's for colour. Kíli refused to meet her eyes.

The elf waved the name away. "We found the rest of your company. Is it true that you're related to Thorin Oakenshield?"

Kíli's eyes found the floor, tracing a pattern in the dust with his fingers. "Virtually all our company are interrelated," he replied monotonously. "Well, apart from Bifur, Bofur and Bombur."

"And where do they fit in?"

"They-" Kíli broke off abruptly, his eyes finally meeting the elf's as they narrowed with suspicion. "Why do you want to know?"

"Listen, you _idiot,_" the elf hissed. "I don't _have_ to justify my reasons to you! You are at my king's mercy – we should have executed your brother for what he did in the forest!"

"Why? For defending his kin?"

"For attacking the king's-" This time, the elf broke off, her eyes widening as she realised what she'd just let slip.

Kíli raised his eyebrows.

"Now you listen," the elf said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "It was more than my life's worth to reveal to you that we captured the rest of your friends! I ask the answer to one simple question in return-"

"And I gave you the answer to that _one_ _simple question_," Kíli replied, his voice still carrying that same monotony that had been present throughout the conversation. "You asked me if I was related to Thorin Oakenshield – I told you not only that I was, but which members of my company are not. It was more than _my_ life's worth to reveal that."

The elf paused, her eyes narrowing dangerously, as though hoping that looks alone would succeed when her words had failed.

"What's your name?" Kíli asked.

"I think you know the answer to that," the elf snapped.

"Tauriel, is it not?"

The elf – now established as Tauriel – nodded.

"Tauriel... I suggest a little exchange."

"Let me guess – some unknown debt to be claimed at a later date in exchange for your freedom?"

"Not exactly, no."

Tauriel's eyebrows shot up.

"Knowledge for knowledge," Kíli explained. "You ask me a question, I answer it honestly. Then I ask you a question, and you answer it."

Tauriel laughed sarcastically. "And your questions will no doubt be 'how do I get out of this cell undetected' or along a similar vein?"

"Well, if you don't wish to answer a specific question, you don't have to. But for every answer one of us gets, the other must have one."

"Seems fair. Very well – what were you doing in the forest?"

"Passing through. Why have you imprisoned us?"

Tauriel rolled her eyes at the blatantly obvious answer.

"Because the king wishes it. Why were you passing through?"

"To reach the lands beyond. Why does the king wish for us to be imprisoned?"

"Because you do not have permission to be in Mirkwood. Also, your brother attacked someone close to him. Which way were you going?"

"East. What relation does the elf that Fíli attacked have to the king?"

Tauriel narrowed her eyes. "I don't want to answer that one."

"Tauriel, you still owe me an answer."

A silence fell between them, stretching like a chasm as Kíli waited for the inevitable.

"Ask me another question."

"What is the easiest way out of Mirkwood where I won't get detected?"

Tauriel glared at Kíli, who simply smiled smugly at the elf.

"He is the king's nephew," Tauriel said through gritted teeth. "Now for my next question – what relation are you to Thorin Oakenshield?"

Kíli fell back onto the floor, his eyes drifting shut lazily. "Well, I'm bored now, so I suggest that you go and do whatever else you need to be doing."

"You still owe me an answer!"

"No I don't," Kíli said flatly. "You went first, remember?"

Tauriel mentally kicked herself. An answer for an answer – she _had_ gone first, which had put him in control of when their exchange ended. She had allowed the dwarf to gain the upper hand within the first few minutes of their interaction. She had been a fool to let such a thing happen, and even more so not to see it before.

"Well done, _dwarf_," she snarled, turning on her heel and storming away, unaware of the invisible creature following her.

* * *

Bilbo had tried and failed to keep up with the elves as they took the rest of Thorin's company into the dungeons. However, the company was soon split up, and the dwarves had been taken deep underground. After following Thorin and establishing that there was nothing he could do for their leader when he was locked in a cell and guarded, he had decided to go in search of the others.

Of course, what he hadn't counted on was getting lost in the labyrinth of corridors and tunnels beneath the Elvenking's halls, and spent the best part of an hour wandering around in the dark, seeing neither hide nor hair of another living soul, before one of the elves stormed up a small flight of stairs and walked right past him. He leapt out of her way, but decided to follow her – if only to get out of the maze he was in.

She led him through the winding tunnels until they finally came to a door, which led them both straight into the now empty throne room. The elf walked straight across the room and through another door which led into a sunny courtyard, where an elf whom Bilbo had never seen before stood talking to a finely dressed young man. The man seemed far cheerier than the elf, who offered the man a smile that didn't reach his eyes, before refilling a goblet that the man had just handed him.

"Legolas!" the elf whom Bilbo had followed.

The elf in the courtyard looked up, his smile morphing into something far more genuine.

The first elf walked over to Legolas, before muttering something in elvish. Legolas nodded, before the man said, rather bluntly:

"Who are you?"

Legolas turned back to the man. "Drín, this is Tauriel, captain of my guard and one of my most able soldiers. Tauriel, this is Drín, son of the Master of Esgaroth, here to negotiate about the river routes. I assure you that anything you have to say to me can be said in front of him."

Tauriel offered Drín a dismissive nod, ignoring the outstretched hand for her to shake. "Delighted."

"So, Tauriel, what have you got for me?" Legolas asked.

Tauriel gave Drín a wary look, before turning back to Legolas. "Three more names."

"Excellent! Which ones?"

"I don't know who they belong to, but the young one said that three of them were called Bifur, Bofur and Bombur."

"Well done, Tauriel. Might I ask how you came by this?"

"A simple exchange of knowledge, a gesture of trust."

Legolas' smile faltered. "An _exchange?_"

Tauriel nodded. "I also learnt that the dwarves were heading east before we found them, and they had no intention of stopping in the forest."

"And what did you tell him?"

"Nothing he didn't already know."

"What is that supposed to mean?" A note of hostility had found its way into Legolas' voice.

"What's going on?" Drín asked, only to be flatly ignored by the two elves.

"Tauriel, what did you tell him?"

"I told him that he was imprisoned because his brother attacked Thindor, and-" she broke off abruptly.

Legolas' face darkened – no trace of a smile, forced or otherwise, lingered on his face. "Please... tell me you didn't tell him how Thindor was related to my father..."

Tauriel nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Legolas' eyes drifted shut. "Tauriel..."

"It was an exchange of knowledge!" Tauriel's voice had gone defensive. "I got plenty in return!"

"An exchange? Tauriel, you bantered back and forth for about a minute during which he elaborately told you nothing that we didn't already know!"

"We didn't know they were heading east!"

"Yes, we did! You weren't present when we brought in the rest of their company, but one of them mentioned going to the Iron Hills!"

"They were almost certainly lying!"

"Yes, but in that moment they revealed which way they were heading!"

Tauriel's tongue stilled, as silence pressed down on the scene, tense, anticipating...

"Should I come back later?" Drín asked, and in that moment, the tension broke.

Legolas held out a hand to Drín. "Tauriel, you have just put my cousin in danger. If this comes back to harm him in any way, I will hold you accountable. And if I find out that you have told him anything else – like the fact that we brought the rest of his company in – then I will have you charged for treason. You are dismissed."

Bilbo's eyes flickered between the two elves, as Tauriel turned on her heel, storming out, before something else sunk in...

_The rest of his company..._

There were two members of the company that were yet to be accounted for.

_Fíli and Kíli._

* * *

**A/N: Not particularly happy with this chapter... But I really cannot be bothered to rewrite it again. I'm sorry about the delay for this chapter, and sorry that it was more of a filler than anything else. Next chapter should be more entertaining... **

**Thanks once again for the reviews! I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to reply to any – between exams (we will not discuss the stats paper...) and everything else going on (don't ask...) I've just been completely unable to find any time whatsoever... However, it means a lot that people are still interested in this story, and after exams, when the world is suddenly a lot less stressful, I might actually be given a chance to do what I want for a change...**


	29. Part 2 Chapter 8

8

He closed his eyes, his fist clenching and unclenching as he struggled to come to terms with the sickening weight that had settled in his stomach. His breath hitched in his throat as it hit him – what he had done was unforgivable. He had betrayed everything he'd ever believed in. He felt like his blood was poison – no, that wasn't right. _He_ was the one poisoning his blood. He'd turned against his family, and for what? What could that monster offer him that he didn't already have? Why had he been so quick to accept that offer? He shouldn't have, he _knew_ he shouldn't have.

But now... it was too late.

* * *

Bilbo rushed after Tauriel's retreating figure, forgetting about stealth as he crossed the cold throne room. Thankfully, the room was completely empty, save for the two of them, and Tauriel was clearly so absorbed in her anger that she completely failed to notice the soft pattering of feet behind her.

But that was where the hobbit's luck ended. As soon as she disappeared back into the tunnels, she broke into a run. Bilbo sprinted after her, but he knew almost as soon as the door fell shut behind them that it was a lost cause. Tauriel was far faster than he was, and he had already had to jog to keep up with her when she had stormed off with as much decorum as she could muster. Bilbo watched her turn a corner, but by the time he had reached the point where she had disappeared from view, she was no longer anywhere in sight.

Only slightly deterred, he continued to run down the corridor. He knew in his heart that it was futile, but he wasn't ready to give up on finding Fíli and Kíli just yet...

He slowed to a halt when he came to a fork. A single torch illuminated the junction, casting shadows in both directions. There was no sign of Tauriel anywhere.

_Left or right?_

Bilbo knew that indecision was a luxury he could not afford. If he had such an option, he would have elected to continue straight on – at least that was memorable, so that he could find his way back should he need to. But right now he needed to make a choice. He needed to find the dwarves.

He finally reached a decision, and turned left.

* * *

Kíli didn't hear the footsteps, but rather the heavy breathing as Tauriel stormed into view.

"What I said to you stays between us, understood?" she snarled.

Kíli hadn't moved from his position when Tauriel had left him no more than twenty minutes ago, and didn't even bother to look up at his guard.

"_Understood?_" she repeated, sounding ever more frantic.

"Yes, I heard you the first time," Kíli replied, his voice keeping the same monotony it had carried throughout their previous conversation. "Though I would have thought that my failure to comprehend would be preferable, given as how such a _hypothetical_ conversation that would have _hypothetically_ occurred earlier never actually happened."

Tauriel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you want?"

"Wow, Mirkwood elves really have no idea how to trust, do you?" Kíli's voice finally betrayed a hint of exasperation. "Why would you assume that I _want_ anything? Apart from the obvious, which I know that you're not going to give me."

"It is no secret that our people are enemies! Why would you stay silent about this? It is not as though my people are going to punish _you_ for having that conversation! Why would you pretend that it never happened unless you want something in return?"

"To return a favour."

Tauriel's eyebrows shot up.

"You told me that the rest of my company was safe when you didn't have to. This is my way of repaying a debt."

Tauriel's features softened slightly. "I do not understand you, Kíli. In the forest, you were an emotional wreck, and now you're... It's like you're a completely different person."

Kíli looked up at Tauriel. "I encountered your stream."

Comprehension dawned upon Tauriel. "You fell in?"

"No – one of my company did. I simply reached in and pulled him out. Unfortunately, my hand got wet."

"And so you felt the after-effects of the river, which can't have been helped by the forest at night," Tauriel finished. "You were left in a state of high paranoia, which, when your company left the path, caused you to panic."

Kíli smiled ruefully, taking careful note of this little scrap of information – the company hadn't been found on the path, but rather in the forest.

"Well, I need to go," Tauriel said, turning and walking away. "I'll... _probably_ see you later..."

"Tauriel!" Kíli called, finally moving from the position he'd been sitting in to lean on the door, peering down the corridor. "One last question!"

Tauriel sighed, before turning around, an obviously false smile on her face.

"If it was so dangerous for you to tell me... what you did, then why _did_ you?"

The false smile fell from her face, and she schooled her features into a neutral expression. "You said that they were your family," she said. "In your position, I'd want to know the same thing."

* * *

"No, no, no, no, _damn it!_"

Thorin looked up from his darkened cell – he could have sworn that the elves had chosen the darkest corner of Mirkwood in which to house him. The cell was at the end of a tunnel, which was illuminated by a single torch at the entrance of said tunnel. The cell was so inconspicuous that he hadn't noticed that it was there at first, the door pressed into the side of the tunnel right by the dead end. He could barely see anything, even though his eyes were used to the dark of tunnels, and the torch was so far away that it barely gave enough light to make out anything. He couldn't see the X that adorned the wall that marked the dead end of the tunnel. He couldn't even see anyone in the tunnel.

"Hello?" Thorin called out, his eyes roving from side to side in search of whomever may have been outside his cell.

"Thorin?" the voice whispered.

"Who's there?" Thorin shouted, hoping that his commanding tone masked his fear of the disembodied voice. _Ghosts do not exist, there must be a rational explanation for this..._

Suddenly, Bilbo appeared – quite literally – out of thin air, right in front of him.

"What the-" Thorin jolted back, his heart beating at least twice the normal rate that it should have been. He'd seen a lot of things in his time, but never anything quite as crazy as that. He maintained that Bilbo Baggins, a mundane creature from perhaps the most mundane land in all of Middle Earth, materialising from thin air, was the most bizarre thing he had – and would ever – see.

Or maybe _this_ was what Gandalf had meant when he had said that hobbits could move unseen by most. There had to be a rational explanation for this.

"Can all hobbits do that, or..."

Bilbo let out a laugh that sounded either relieved or hysterical – Thorin couldn't quite tell – before putting his hands in his pockets. "No, it's... ah..."

"A Baggins thing?" Thorin suggested.

"Oh, _goodness_, no," Bilbo paused. "Well, it might become one, or something of that nature, or..." Bilbo changed tack at Thorin's thunderous expression. "I suppose I owe you an explanation. Do you remember when I told you about Gollum?"

Thorin nodded.

"Well, I... Well, I suppose I stole this ring from him." Bilbo reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple gold ring. "It was lying on the ground, and I... Well, I pocketed it. Not entirely sure why, it didn't seem to be of any worth at the time. But when I fled from Gollum, I slipped it onto my finger, and it turned me... It turned me invisible."

_Well, maybe not a _rational _explanation..._

"And so this was how you lured the spiders away? And avoided capture?"

Bilbo nodded. "I followed you all here, but then when the Elvenking split you all up, I didn't know what to do. I followed you down here, but then the guards didn't show any signs of leaving, so I tried to find my way out. I got lost, but then I followed this elf – I think her name was Tauriel – and she essentially led me out, and then she had a conversation with another elf, called Legolas, and they mentioned two more dwarves in their custody, and I _think_ that they were referring to Fíli and Kíli, but I can't be sure, and I tried to find them by following Tauriel, but I lost her, and then I got lost in these tunnels _again!_ How on earth do elves and dwarves find their way around tunnels anyway?"

"Bilbo-" Thorin attempted to stem the ever-accelerating tide of ramblings that Bilbo was spewing at a pitch that eternally seemed on the rise.

"I've been running around for at least an hour! I swear that when the king designed this prison, he planned on getting everyone lost, all of the tunnels look the same-"

"Bilbo, please-"

"I don't understand how the elves find their way around here!"

"BILBO!"

Bilbo fell silent, looking slightly deranged, panting slightly.

"What were you saying about Fíli and Kíli?"

"I think they might be here, but I can't be sure, I can't find them..." Bilbo looked forlornly up the passage, unwilling to face the prospect of getting lost again.

"Have you found anybody else?"

Bilbo shook his head.

"Now, you asked how we find our way inside mountains. The answer is that we count how many turnings there are. It's like the directions you gave us when we came to your home that night, and we wanted to know where the pantry was, or the bathroom was, and you told us 'third door on the right.' With this, it is exactly the same principle."

Bilbo offered Thorin a weak smile, slightly ashamed of his hysterical outburst. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, do you think that you could find the others?"

Bilbo nodded tentatively.

"Good. Now, I have a task for you. See if you can figure out where everyone else is, and tell them not to tell the elves _anything!_ They're not to even know our names! If the elves find out about our quest to Erebor, then they will claim part of our gold for themselves. If anyone has any doubts about this, then remind them of that fact. Then, once you know their location, come back to me, and we'll go from there."

"You have a plan?" Bilbo's face lit up.

"No, but I have a lot of time to sit and think. I'll come up with something. Now put that ring on, and good luck."

* * *

It took Bilbo another three days to track down the rest of the company. By sheer luck, he managed to find his way back to the entrance to the tunnels, and from there, he followed the elves to each of the cells – counting all the various twists and turns that he took as he did so, like Thorin had told him to – as the elves delivered meals. From there, he spoke to each of the dwarves in turn, when nobody else was around, revealing the secret he had kept from them before delivering Thorin's message.

Balin, Dwalin, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, Oin and Gloin all agreed to Thorin's request without question. Their spirits were understandably low, but they accepted that silence was by far the best defence that they had. They also had faith in their leader, accepting that while at this point there was no escape plan, there may well be hope for their quest yet.

Bombur and Nori were slightly less agreeable. Bombur had been feeling disenchanted with the entire quest since his trip into the stream, claiming that their mission was futile anyway, and part of him wished that he could return to the Blue Mountains. At this point, Bilbo lied to Bombur, and claimed that Thorin had a plan, and that they would be out of Mirkwood as soon as Bilbo could implement it. Nori, on the other hand, was far more sceptical. He sensed that their chances of escaping were slim, and was only further disheartened to learn that Thorin had no plan – Bilbo found that he couldn't lie convincingly to the thief amongst them. However, it was not promises of gold that swayed Nori, but the offer for Nori to leave the company which convinced him to stay.

Dori understood the need for secrecy, but couldn't help but worry for his siblings. Bilbo had learnt that the strength of Dori's bond with his brothers rivalled that which bound Fíli and Kíli. The first words out of his mouth were demands for information regarding the safety of Nori and Ori. Bilbo had regretted not being able to give him Nori's whereabouts, but assured him that Ori was fine – if not a little bored. He agreed to Thorin's request eventually, once he'd learnt that Ori had agreed to it.

It was on the evening of the third day that Bilbo found Fíli and Kíli, finally stumbling onto Fíli's cell.

"Fíli?" Bilbo called out.

Fíli looked up, confusion furrowing his brow, before standing up and peering out the door, looking remarkably like a fair-haired version of his uncle, before Bilbo remembered the Ring.

Fíli jumped back noiselessly, staring wide-eyed at Bilbo, who then explained the whole story of the Ring – one that he'd perfected over eleven previous tellings.

"Right," Fíli said softly once Bilbo had finished, not looking entirely reassured. "Have you seen Kíli?"

"Not yet. Listen, I have a message from your uncle. He asks that you don't tell the elves anything, not even the names of anyone in the company."

Fíli's expression changed from sceptical to doubtful. "That... might be a problem..."

Bilbo's eyes narrowed.

"Not for me," Fíli hurriedly assured the hobbit. "I can sit in a cell for a few more days. The problem... may lie with Kíli."

"Ah."

"I don't know what happened to him," Fíli said. "I caught up with him in the forest, after the elves found him, but I've never seen him like that before. Something terrified him out there, and he... he broke down. And then, he seemed to calm down during our journey here, but when the elves locked him up, he lost control again. I don't know what he'd do if they told him that in order to be free, he needed to tell them why we were in Mirkwood."

"He wouldn't betray Thorin's wishes, though, would he?"

"You didn't see him," Fíli said, his eyes darkening. "I've known him for seventy seven years and I've never seen him lose control like that. This place is undoubtedly bringing up old memories..."

"From the mountains?"

Fíli nodded darkly.

"Do you... Do you know where he's being kept?"

Bilbo expected Fíli to laugh at his suggestion, and remind the hobbit that he had been locked up in a cell while he, Bilbo, had been free to roam around, or else grow angry, like Nori had done. What he didn't expect was for Fíli to smile, and give him the most complicated directions he had ever received.

"They took him to his cell before mine, but I made sure I kept track of where he was in relation to me. Since..." Fíli tilted his head pointedly, "I've always made sure I know exactly where he is. Not entirely sure why, given as how I've been stuck in here. I suppose it was more out of instinct than anything else, but... Anyway, turn left at the next turning, then straight on, straight on, right, straight on, left, left, and then his cell is on your right."

Bilbo blinked at Fíli several times, before it suddenly occurred to the dwarf why Bilbo was looking quite so confused.

"Oh – right – dwarf directions, sorry... Basically, dwarves find their way underground by counting turnings-"

"Yes, Thorin explained that to me, it's how I've found my way to you all."

"Oh. Well, that saves time. Basically, each 'straight on' basically indicates a turning on either side that you _don't_ take-"

"That's not the issue. How on earth am I supposed to remember all that?"

-:-

"Kíli!" Bilbo hissed through the bars, once again forgetting that he was invisible.

Not that it made a huge amount of difference. For a lack of anything better to do, Kíli had gone to sleep in the corner of the room, and if Bilbo had learnt anything about the youngest dwarf of the company, it was that once Kíli had gone to sleep, it was no use attempting to wake him.

Not that Bilbo was unwilling to try. His eyes scanned the rough stone floor of the corridor, his hand curling around a jagged stone that seemed to have fallen from the walls. Then, with well-practised hands, he hurled the stone through the bars, where, thankfully, it struck Kíli on the ear.

Kíli jolted awake with a cry at the impact, his hand flying to his ear in search of the missile.

"Kíli!" Bilbo hissed again. "Over here!"

Kíli looked immediately towards the door, his eyes covering every inch of the opening except for where Bilbo stood.

_Oh. Right. The Ring._

Bilbo hastily whipped it off. He really should have learnt to do so by now.

"Bilbo!" Kíli cried out exuberantly, scrambling towards the door. "But... How...?"

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"But I don't understand... How did you-"

"It's a long, slightly weird story and I don't really have time for it now. All you need to know at this point is that I have a magic ring that turns me invisible. Look." Bilbo held up the Ring for Kíli to inspect at the dwarf's disbelieving expression, before giving him a quick demonstration of its power by putting it on for a second. "See?"

"...No."

Bilbo sighed, before returning the Ring to his pocket. "It doesn't matter right now. Look, I have a message from your uncle. He says 'do not tell the elves _anything_, no matter what they offer you.' I know that it's all very well for me to say that, but these words come from your uncle."

Kíli's smile slid from his face, to be replaced by a stony expression, before he asked a question that nobody else had felt necessary to ask.

"Why not?" he asked coldly.

Bilbo blinked incredulously at Kíli. "Well, if the elves claim part of the gold, then-"

"Oh, it's _always_ about the gold with this company, isn't it?" Kíli suddenly snapped, not troubling to keep his voice low.

Bilbo's incredulity increased. "Well, yes. Isn't that the whole point of this quest?"

"So I lost my _hand_ for gold?"

Bilbo fell silent as the hairs on his nape began to stand up. For the first time since the quest began, he actually felt _scared_ of Kíli.

"When Thorin asked Fíli and myself if we would be a part of this quest, he didn't sell the quest in terms of the riches we would receive. He told us of the glory, the _honour_ of being the ones to win back Erebor. He reminded us of the stories that he'd told us as children of our homeland, and told us that if we succeeded, we would have a home again. The gold... it always came after that for me and Fíli. But there's no _honour_ in sitting in a cell for the sake of pride! I did not come on this quest to find a home in some foreign elvish land as a prisoner! The elves don't want Erebor! I would be willing to accept losing my hand for the sake of my home, _that_ I can live with. But for the sake of gold... No."

"Kíli, I don't speak for myself!" Bilbo hissed. "To be honest with you, I think you're right. But you know your uncle better than I do, and you know that Thorin will not so willingly give up his pride or his treasure."

"Does he have a plan?" Kíli snapped.

At this, Bilbo faltered. "...He's working on it."

Kíli suddenly thrust a hand through the bars and grabbed the front of Bilbo's shirt. "Well you tell him exactly this. He has twenty four hours to think of a plan to get us out of here, or I'll take matters into my own hands. And I won't be taking _him!_"

* * *

**A/N: I am so, **_**so**_** sorry for the delay in getting this out! And for the general... I think the best word here is 'randomness' of this chapter. I've been writing this on and off between exams and revision and not revising and... well, real life, and I'm really not happy with the way some of the bits turned out. Next chapter should be a bit more interesting. (I know, I know, I said that last chapter, and look at how this one turned out...) Good news is, exams are now over! The bad news is... I still have to go back to school tomorrow. Anyway, thank you everyone for all the lovely reviews, and for putting up with the delays and the less good chapters... I promise you, once we get to Erebor, things get far more interesting...**


	30. Part 2 Chapter 9

9

_Two lefts... Straight on... Right... HERE!_

"Thorin!" Bilbo began hammering his hand against the bars, not troubling to keep quiet for fear of being discovered – there were more important things at stake. "_Thorin!_"

"What?" Thorin mumbled groggily as Bilbo saw his form shift from the floor into a more dignified position. "Bilbo? Where are you?"

Bilbo – once again – only remembered the Ring at that moment, and hurriedly removed it. "Sorry... I just... I have important news."

Yet now that it came to it, Bilbo had given absolutely no thought as to how to tell their somewhat irrational leader that his own nephew had just threatened to betray his quest to the elves.

"You've found the others?" Thorin caught on. In truth, he'd been waiting anxiously since Bilbo had disappeared for news of the rest of his company, and with no ability to gage time, save for the meals that the elves seemed to bring regularly, he had really begun to worry.

"Yes," Bilbo said, taking calming breaths. "I've found them all, and all of them agree with you... with one exception."

"Kíli," Thorin sighed.

Bilbo nodded.

Thorin felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach. He'd expected that his youngest nephew would be a problem, but he'd hoped that his blood ties would be enough to prevent Kíli from doing anything rash.

"Has he said anything to them?"

"I don't think so, not... Not yet."

"'_Yet'?_"

"He said that... If you didn't think of a plan by this time tomorrow, he would tell the elves what they wanted to know..."

"He actually said that?"

"I think his exact words were 'if you didn't think of a plan in the next twenty four hours, he would take matters into his own hands,' or something along those lines. He also said that he wouldn't be... _taking_ you..."

Thorin passed a hand over his face.

"Thorin?"

He looked up at the hobbit. Bilbo's eyes were filled with worry, and the ever-present hope that he'd seen in the eyes of all the company at some point. The hope that he would have a plan. The expectation for him to know what to do in response to the situation. The same look that would one day vanish from Fíli's eyes, and he would know that his heir would be ready to take the throne. Until then, however, that burden was on his shoulders, no matter how much he longed for it to be elsewhere.

"Have you thought of anything?"

Thorin shook his head. "Please... I should not ask this of you but can you see if you can buy some more time from Kíli?"

"How am I to do that?"

"I... I don't know. You could always press the issue of the gold..."

"He made it very clear that he values freedom above hoarded treasure," Bilbo mentioned.

Thorin let out a low laugh. "I would expect nothing less of him..." He paused, drifting off into thought. "If all else fails, you could always say that the rest of the company will suffer for his... weakness."

"Isn't that a little harsh?" Bilbo said incredulously. "Personally, I agree with him, and after everything he's been through, calling him weak for disliking being enclosed isn't exactly going to improve your relationship-"

"I know, I know!" Thorin held up a hand to stop him. "Only use that as a last resort. I don't wish to, but if all else looks set to fail, then that might just work..."

"And if it doesn't?"

Thorin met Bilbo's eyes, and a haunted look crept over the exiled king. Bilbo was suddenly reminded of Gollum, whose countless years in the darkness had finally taken their toll.

"Beg," Thorin said. "On my behalf, beg."

* * *

"Tauriel!"

The elf turned with a jolt in her stomach to see her king walking towards her. She hurriedly ducked her head.

"My lord."

"My son tells me that you have developed a rapport with one of the dwarves. Is it true?"

Tauriel looked up and met with her king's eyes. She tried to read his expression, but it remained an enigma – his eyes gave nothing away, only a cold void of emotion. How much her prince had told his father remained a mystery.

"Yes, my lord."

"This dwarf let slip three names in your conversation, correct?"

Tauriel nodded.

"Keep talking to him," the king ordered. "Spend some time with him, get to know him. Find out what happened to his hand, perhaps. See what else he _lets slip_ to a friend."

* * *

"Please, Kíli, he has an _idea_, we just need to... to _fine-tune _it!"

"Oh, really?" Kíli snapped sarcastically. "And what _idea_ would that be?"

"We just..." Bilbo trailed off, fully aware that Kíli knew he was lying. If he was honest, he never _had_ been any good at the art, and marvelled at anyone who could improvise with any real skill. "We just need to find a way to get a hold of the keys for a bit!"

Bilbo knew it was pathetic as soon as the words left his mouth, and Kíli laughed sarcastically. "Well, that _would_ be nice, wouldn't it? And while we're at it, would you like to see if the elves would guide us through the forest to the east side, and maybe we could recall Gandalf from the far-flung corners of Middle Earth to come and help us deal with Smaug – or better yet, perhaps Smaug will volunteer to leave Erebor and return to the North!"

"Yes, _all right_, I know, it's a long shot, but we just need some more _time!_" Bilbo implored. "Or do you want the rest of the company to suffer for your own selfish intentions?"

Kíli's expression darkened as a fury kindled itself in his eyes. "He told you to say that?"

Bilbo glared back at Kíli. "If you continued to be as stubborn as him."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

Kíli glared furiously at the wall beside him, as though attempting to bring it down with a single look. "What does he feel," the dwarf muttered through gritted teeth, "is so _selfish_ about valuing liberty above gold?"

"Look, I agree that it was a poor choice of words, but please, Kíli, I am begging you, _Thorin_ is begging you, we just need a little more time!"

-:-

"_Let's see how much pain it takes for you to plead for my mercy!" Azog thrust Kíli's arm into the hottest part of the fire, near the base._

_The pain was excruciating. The heat felt like it was melting the skin off his bones, as huge blisters bubbled up. Kíli began to hyperventilate as the pain level rose in his hands. Suddenly, several of the blisters popped open at once, and Kíli couldn't hold back the cry of pain that ripped itself from his lips. His screams resounded around the cave, echoing off the walls. He clamped his eyes shut, and fought to keep tears from streaming down his face, but didn't quite manage it. He opened his eyes, and wished he hadn't. Through the flames he could see the raw flesh on his arms seeping blood, as the blisters continued to pop and the skin shrivelled up, burning. His hand was slowly getting coated in soot, and the broken edges of his skin were starting to blacken as they began to carbonize..._

_It was too much for him to bear._

"_Stop it," he gasped._

"_Beg for it," Azog replied, grinning, as he held Kíli's forearm in place._

_Would his pride allow it?_

"_Please," he breathed, so quietly he could barely hear himself. But he knew Azog had heard it._

-:-

Kíli suddenly saw red.

"How dare he..." Kíli breathed, a knot twisting in his stomach. "HOW _DARE_ HE!"

Bilbo jolted backwards at Kíli's sudden scream, and stared at the dwarf, wide-eyed.

"How... can he have the _audacity..._ to beg?" Kíli yelled, sounding close to tears. "After everything that I went through for _him_, he somehow thinks that that's ok?"

"Kíli, I'm so sorry," Bilbo whispered.

"WELL, SORRY'S NOT ENOUGH!" Kíli screamed. "How on _earth_ could you think that that was _acceptable?_ You-"

Bilbo's heart seemed to give out, and his fingers acted of their own accord. He knew that he just needed to escape, and somehow – though he couldn't have told anyone how – he slipped the Ring onto his finger.

Kíli lunged forwards at Bilbo's disappearance, his hand reaching out to catch the hobbit, but his fingers closed on thin air.

"Bilbo, get back here!" Kíli screamed out into the darkness."_Bilbo!_"

Kíli fell forwards against the door, his outstretched hand creeping back to close on one of the bars. It was some time before he calmed down enough to realise what he'd just done. He struggled to get away from the door, leaning against the far corner of the cell, before he buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly for so long that he lost track of time. What he'd seen with the orcs, what he'd _done..._ It was seeping into him, _tainting_ him... He was becoming the monster that he'd despised.

"I'm so sorry, Bilbo..." he wept.

Far away, in a darkened corner of the labyrinth beneath Mirkwood, Bilbo Baggins sat shaking.

* * *

**A/N: So this was originally going to be longer, but then this happened, and I **_**still**_** don't entirely know how... It just sort of... wrote itself... Thank you once again for all the reviews! The previous couple of chapters were hell to write, but having you all read it and write such lovely things about it really makes it all worth it in the end. So thank you all, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much!**


	31. Part 2 Chapter 10

10

"Kíli?"

Kíli looked up at the voice, hearing it laced – for the first time – with genuine concern. Tauriel stood watching, and he instantly felt ashamed.

"What's wrong?"

It was hardly the first time Tauriel had heard prisoners crying into the darkness, believing that in the solitude of their cell, nobody could hear them. But in the labyrinth, an elf was never very far away from a prisoner for very long. It was sheer luck that Bilbo had so far avoided detection, confirming Thorin's belief that Bilbo Baggins was by far the luckiest hobbit that had ever lived.

"I – ah... nothing," Kíli stuttered. "I was just..."

"Bawling over your situation like a little girl?"

There was an element of jest in Tauriel's voice that didn't fully disguise the fact that she genuinely felt some semblance of concern for the dwarf in her custody. It seemed to her that there were two sides to him – one cold and resilient, and one weak, vulnerable. And part of her wondered just how much of each side was an act.

"Not exactly," Kíli murmured. "Just... remembering something..."

"Kíli, I..." Tauriel had no idea what to say. She'd just been given a task earlier that day, and here was by far the best chance she was ever going to get at opening up a rapport akin to friendship, but how could she overcome years, _lifetimes_ of prejudice? What did she say?"

"I'm not entirely sure, so forgive me for being blunt, but just... Just how old _are_ you?"

Kíli's surprise suddenly stopped whatever tears he failed to hold back. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to offend you, I was only curious..."

"No, no, it's... fine..." Kíli replied. "Well, I'm seventy-seven, if you must know."

Tauriel nodded, before lowering her eyes to the floor. "And... forgive me, mortal years confuse me – how old is that in terms of..." she cast around for the right word.

Kíli, however, gathered the general gist of what she was asking. "I come of age in three years," he explained, offering a weak, forced smile.

And that was when Tauriel understood the level of sympathy she had for the dwarf.

"You're a child?"

Kíli suddenly looked up. "No!" he snapped, indignant. "No, I'm just... Just because I'm not officially an adult, because of some arbitrary laws put in place by my people does _not_ mean that I'm a child!"

"And yet you sounded exactly like one just then," Tauriel smirked.

It was probably helpful to his point that he had nothing in his cell that he could throw at her. Instead, he simply looked away from her, determinedly looking at the wall.

"If... If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your hand?"

Kíli looked down his left arm. "It got burnt," he muttered shortly. "In a fire. Got infected, so the healer had no choice but to cut it off."

"Oh, I'm... I'm sorry."

"I don't want to talk about it."

This time, it was Tauriel who fell silent and waited for Kíli to speak.

"Why are you being nice to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"The joke you made earlier. It wasn't particularly typical of you. Or what little I've seen of you. If somebody saw us, they could almost mistake us for friends."

"Except most people know that I have better taste in my choice of companions," Tauriel smirked.

"And there it is again," Kíli replied, the monotone returning to his voice. "If you think that I'll betray my family then you are sadly mistaken. I wouldn't open up to an enemy, no matter how they may dress up their words."

"I'm not here to try and make you talk," Tauriel lied, the words flowing from her lips with a level of ease that only came from years of practise. "If I had a choice I wouldn't be here at all, but I've been instructed to guard your company, and to be perfectly honest, you're the only member of the company who will actually talk to me in Westron, as opposed to pretending that they can only speak Khuzdul or whatever you call your secret dwarvish language, so I am simply trying to make good of an incredibly dull situation."

"If you're referring to the member of my company with an axe in his head, he _can_ only speak the secret dwarvish language."

"Actually I was more referring to the one with the frankly ridiculous hat."

"I'll tell him you said that."

"How?"

"I have my methods," Kíli said, finally breaking the endless monotone and adding a hint of jest, enough to convince Tauriel that it was just a joke.

* * *

It was quite some time before Bilbo found it in him to stumble back to Thorin's cell. He didn't remember most of the journey, struggling to control his breathing.

"Deep breaths, Bilbo," he gasped to himself, repeating the words that his mother had always told him when he was nigh on hysterical as a child.

"Bilbo?" echoed a voice.

Bilbo looked up. Somehow, without him noticing, his feet had carried him from his corner back to Thorin's cell without his notice. Bilbo hurriedly removed the Ring.

"Well?" Thorin asked expectantly, as soon as Bilbo appeared. "Did it work?"

It took Bilbo a minute to register what was being asked. He stared at Thorin with an almost desperate look in his eyes before finally shaking his head. "I tried, but... When I..." Bilbo shut his eyes, looking at the ceiling.

Thorin sat in silence, waiting patiently for Bilbo to continue.

"When I told him that you would beg for more time if you could, he... He grew angry... He started... _screaming_ about how you would dare to do such a thing... And then he... He became angry with me for passing on the message. I don't know what happened, but I just put on my ring and ran. I'm sorry."

Thorin fell backwards and passed a hand over his face. He shook his head as a rejection of the apology – it was unnecessary. "We need to come up with a plan then. Quickly. How many ways are there out of the fortress?"

"Only one that I know of, so far," Bilbo muttered, dejection seeping into his tone.

"The way we came in."

Bilbo nodded.

"Well, I have a new task for you, Master Baggins," Thorin said. "Come up with a way to get a hold of the keys, or a way to pick the locks. The priority is to find a way to escape the cells. If, in your travels, you would _somehow_ come across another way out, then by all means, make a note of it. But I doubt that there will be such a way. If I know King Thranduil – and I believe in knowing an enemy – then there will be one way in, and one way out. The second task that I have for you is to find our weapons. If need be, we will fight our way out of Mirkwood, but I hope it will not come to that."

"And what then?" Bilbo asked, anger seeping into his voice. "We'll just keep running around the forest until we starve again, on the nigh impossible chance that we should, one day, _stumble_ from the forest, on the east side? We would die before that ever happened."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and he was surprised at himself – in the company, he was the naive one, the one who never gave up the small glimmer of hope that somehow, maybe with some form of a plan, or the help of a wizard, things would somehow sort themselves out. In all the danger that they had been in, in all the times that he had been confronted with the very real possibility that he could die, he had never once faced it, choosing to run from it instead. Even after Kíli's pony had returned to Rivendell, covered in blood, he had never once faced the possibility that he could actually die on this quest. It was easier that way.

And he still wasn't sure if he was facing it now, rather than simply acknowledging its existence in his peripheral vision.

"Do you have a better idea?" Thorin snapped back, his tone matching Bilbo's. "Kíli's not going to give us more time before he tells Thranduil's folk what we intend to do. We don't have another way out other than the front door."

"Perhaps there's a way which we can avoid the forest," Bilbo said desperately. "I'm sure there will be a map of the forest somewhere, perhaps I can live up to my duty as burglar and steal it."

"By all means, attempt to, but I highly doubt that this Mahal-forsaken fortress will have any route to the outside world that does not involve a trip through the forest."

"Well, I personally think that it's-" Bilbo suddenly stopped talking abruptly.

"What is it?" Thorin asked, only to find himself being frantically shushed.

For Bilbo had heard a noise – the sound usually made when Oin tried to start a fire with his tinderbox. His heart clenched when he saw a light appear about halfway down the tunnel, and without further ado, he placed the Ring on his finger, and backed against the wall as an elf carrying a torch came down the tunnel to Thorin's cell, moving silently, his footsteps making no noise on the stone. Bilbo recognised the elf as Legolas, as he finally faced Thorin.

"What were you doing?"

Thorin simply glared back at Legolas, recognising him as Thranduil's right hand in combat from when Smaug claimed Erebor.

"I do not see what business it is of yours," Thorin spat back.

"While you are guests in my king's land, it is his business."

"_Guests?_" Thorin scoffed incredulously. "Well, as _guests_ I feel that my company has outstayed its welcome, and we think that we ought to leave."

Legolas smiled wryly. "Very amusing, dwarf," he drawled. "Perhaps if you didn't want our _hospitality_ you should not have entered our realm. It is very easy for our guards to misread the signs."

"Did you want anything, elf?"

"I heard voices."

Bilbo tensed. He'd heard tales of the elves' sharp hearing, and wondered how much Legolas had heard of their plan.

"Yes, I was talking to myself. Your guards, I find, lack the necessary intellectual level required to hold a decent conversation."

"I understand that where you come from, Thorin Oakenshield, knowledge is frowned upon, and that your barbaric race prefers to settle disputes with force rather than wit, but I had hoped that you would recognise some simple grammar. I said _voices_, not voice. The use of a plural tends to denote more than one voice, in case you were wondering. In addition to your own harsh tone, which should be banned by several laws, I heard another, infinitely more agreeable voice. Whose was it?"

Thorin reached through the bars suddenly, making to grab Legolas and slam his excessively smug expression against the bars, but he simply stepped backwards with reflexes gifted only to his race. "What did you just say about my voice?"

"Answer the question."

"Or what?" Thorin growled.

"Or I shall take it out on a member of your company."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Thorin knew that Legolas had heard enough to jeopardise Bilbo's plans, but he also knew that there was one way to save Bilbo. At the sacrifice of his pride.

"The other voice was also mine," Thorin said through gritted teeth. "I put it on."

Legolas simply arched an eyebrow sceptically.

"Look around you!" Thorin snapped. "Do you see anybody else in this corridor? Did you see anybody else pass you when you came down here to accuse me of the ridiculous notion that I was having a conversation with somebody other than myself?"

Legolas glanced around the corridor. His eyes swept the walls behind him. Twice they passed over Bilbo, who could hear his heart hammering against his chest. He was almost certain that the noise would give him away, and was certain that the game was up when Legolas' eyes met his own, lingering there in the corner...

But Legolas turned away, his bright blue eyes meeting with Thorin's once again, scepticism disguising his confusion.

"See?" Thorin said smugly.

Legolas held Thorin's gaze for a minute longer, before turning on his heels and leaving. When he reached the entrance of the tunnel, Thorin heard Legolas yelling at somebody else.

"Double the guard, I want somebody outside his door day and night! And that goes for the rest of his company!"

Bilbo's heart sunk at Legolas' words. "What now?" he hissed through the bars, not daring to remove the Ring.

"Try and carry out the plan. Find some sort of excuse to get the elves away from the company for long enough so that we can escape. We'll-"

"I hope you enjoyed your chat with your alter-ego, Thorin Oakenshield," Legolas called down the corridor. "Such chats may become a luxury in the future."

With that, Legolas extinguished the torch, plunging them all into total darkness. If it was possible, Bilbo felt his spirits slip further. Freeing the company from Mirkwood had just become much harder.

* * *

**A/N: I am so, impossibly, unbelievably, incredibly, insert-adverb-denoting-great-magnitude-here sorry for the long delay. There are two reasons for it. Number one – Microsoft decided to piss me off by claiming that my edition had expired (or something, I didn't really understand it) so I had to reinstall my operating system. Number two – I really struggled with this chapter, and had no idea how to start it, and the thing with Legolas just... happened. I have to say, writing Legolas as the unrelenting b****** of a guard/villain is ridiculously fun. Seriously, writing him as the bad guy is SO FRICKING AWESOME! If you like writing, may I suggest that you just try it. **


	32. Part 2 Chapter 11

11

The sudden appearance, and in particular lack of disappearance, of a guard outside his cell was a surprise to Fíli. He could only assume that someone – probably Kíli – had made some drastic attempt to escape and it had gone very badly wrong. He longed to ask Bilbo to check on Kíli, but there were two things that prevented him from doing so. The first was that he had overheard his brother's outburst to Bilbo, had heard what had been screamed at the hobbit, as Mister Baggins became the unfortunate outlet for all the rage, all the fear caused by Kíli's second imprisonment, and by the sounds of it, part of what was caused by the first. Fíli did not doubt the hobbit's courage in the face of an enemy – he'd seen enough to know that he'd underestimated Bilbo at their first meeting. But he did not know if Bilbo's courage would stand up to facing Kíli's wrath once again.

The second, far more glaringly obvious problem, was that there was now a guard outside his cell day and night.

He studied the guards' regime. They changed at fairly regular intervals during the day, and less frequent – though just as regular – intervals during the nights, though without any aid from the outside world, or even a glimpse of sunlight passing across his cell, he couldn't tell how long the intervals were. Time seemed to have forsaken the dungeons beneath Mirkwood.

However, the sudden presence of guards was not about to deter him from finding out about his brother.

"Is my brother all right?" he asked, almost as soon as the guard had been situated outside of his door.

At which point he was flatly ignored.

"Hello?" he called out, as the guard stood beside him with a vacant expression on his face. "Can you hear me?"

The guard gave no recognition, continuing to find something so fascinating in the air in front of him that his eyes didn't even twitch.

"I _am_ willing to speak to you in Westron!" Fíli shouted, becoming more aggravated with every word that was ignored. "Do you have orders not to speak to me or something?"

Not so much as a blink.

Fíli slammed his hand against the bars, which finally provoked a reaction. The door rattled on its hinges, causing the guard to turn around and glare at him.

Fíli simply glared back. "Is my brother all right?"

"I wouldn't know," the guard replied haughtily, before returning to his previous stance of staring vacantly at the air in front of him.

-:-

Bilbo, however, had seen this entire exchange, and couldn't help wondering why the guard seemed so vacant. He'd seen in Rivendell that elves never slept – one elf by the name of Lindir had greeted them so 'enthusiastically,' accidentally insulting at least four dwarvish customs in his ignorance – or deliberately insulting at least four dwarvish customs in his general prejudice, Bilbo wasn't quite sure which, only to have his friend, who was either more knowledgeable or more accepting of dwarves, explain that the last time Lindir had slept lying down was three days ago. Dwalin had at that point had let out a low sarcastic mutter of "there's another way to do it?"

And, it seemed, there was.

He had a feeling that this was not what other races would call sleep. He doubted that the elf would continue to stare vacantly into space if a hobbit materialised before his eyes, but perhaps something more subtle...

He returned to the corridor about ten minutes later, having raided somebody's study, with lots of small scraps of paper, a quill and a pot of ink stowed in his many pockets. On his way back, he found a deserted corridor and scribbled a few words onto it.

'_Fíli, I've seen Kíli, he's fine. The guards have been increased because one of the elves nearly caught me talking to Thorin. I'm fine, but they stationed guards outside, because the elf didn't believe Thorin's explanation that he was talking to himself. We have a plan but it will require some time to put it in place.  
Bilbo.'_

Having finished scribbling the note, he folded it up tightly, and hurried back to Fíli's cell. He was relieved to find that the guard was still staring vacantly into space. He crept up to the bars as quietly as he could, and placed the note to Fíli down on the floor inside his cell, and scurried back.

After waiting with bated breath for a minute, Bilbo ascertained that the guard hadn't noticed. The bad news was... neither had Fíli.

He mentally cursed dwarves and their complete lack of observation, before picking up the note, screwing it up into a ball, and throwing it at Fíli.

Years of practice at throwing small stones at squirrels had given Bilbo incredibly good aim with a small missile, and he was pleased when the paper landed on Fíli's face, bouncing off his forehead. Fíli looked around, perplexed, before seeing the note lying on the floor, scrunched into a ball no bigger than his thumbnail. He flattened it out, and as he read it, Bilbo saw his posture relax. Fíli closed his eyes as he screwed the note back up, and allowed a smile to spread across his face.

"What are you so happy about?"

The sudden voice of the elf caused both Bilbo and Fíli to jump. Bilbo jolted in fright as the elf kept its gaze firmly on Fíli.

"Nothing," Fíli grinned enigmatically as Bilbo scurried away. "Nothing at all."

* * *

The stone had left a small white mark against the rough grey wall as it bounced away into Kíli's hand. Tauriel did her absolute best to ignore him, but the constant tapping was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Could you please stop that?"

She turned around to glare at the dwarf in her custody, and if need be, confiscate the stone to grant her five minutes of peace (until Kíli found another one.) He simply grinned at her from his position in the doorway, and threw it back against the wall, and caught it.

She looked at the brick which had suffered the constant assault, expecting to see a large number of white marks at every point that the stone had landed, and was astonished to see that each of the white marks were touching each other, spreading out in a circle the size of her thumbnail.

"Have you been throwing that stone at exactly the same three spots all this time?"

"Yes," Kíli smiled proudly.

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm impressed. You have remarkably good aim... for a dwarf."

"And _what_ is that supposed to mean?"

"I thought dwarves were less concerned with good aim, and more concerned with 'does it remove enough of a limb to stop it functioning?'"

Kíli fixed the wall with a stony look, while it took Tauriel all of a second to realise what she'd just said.

"Kíli, I am so sorry, I didn't mean that."

"I used to be an archer," he said. The words felt so _strange_ coming from his mouth. It was the first time he'd ever actually admitted it to himself. He _used to_ be an archer. He wasn't anymore, and he never would be again. And that... The loss of his _identity_... still hurt him. He had always been an archer. It was what made him stand out from everyone else – the best archer in all of Ered Luin.

-:-

It hadn't been an easy journey to become an archer. He had, at a very young age, despised the bow. Brought up in the house of Thorin Oakenshield, he had been prejudiced against elves and anything to do with them, and for an elf, a bow was often their primary weapon. He wanted to use a sword, idolising his uncle, and the stories of his father. Fíli had spent five years training in the art of combat before Thorin would even allow Kíli into the ring, and he had watched his brother grow adept with his father's weapons. Kíli had watched his brother train from the sidelines, as Fíli developed skill, and an element of grace alongside it. And Kíli longed to be just like him. Yet when Kíli started training, he found that he could barely even lift a sword. His brother's build was stocky, yet he was more lithe, favouring speed over strength. Fíli's main flaw was that he lacked speed, but that didn't stop him actively training his technique. Thorin would correct Fíli's movements, and the speed would come with it. Yet Kíli's lack of strength meant that he couldn't even execute the simple moves that Fíli had first learnt. And so, as a method of building up his strength, Thorin had presented Kíli with a hunter's bow. _The strength in his arms would grow._

Kíli had flatly refused to be labelled as an archer. He begged Thorin to try again – give him a smaller sword, but Thorin refused. A smaller weapon would not build up his strength, nor help his technique. He promised Kíli that it would only be temporary. But when Fíli's friends saw him attempt to fire a bow, word spread like wildfire. Thorin Oakenshield was training his youngest nephew as an archer. The name had followed him everywhere. Kíli, son of Dís, the _archer_ of the family. The battlefield was no place for a bow. But Kíli knew it was temporary. He would start training with a sword. His skill with a sword would rival his father's, would rival Fíli's, would rival _Thorin's._ Kíli got better with the bow – he became more accurate, he could shoot further than most, his draw and release became faster. But he never pushed himself. He loathed the weapon, and when Thorin finally deemed him strong enough to begin training with a sword, he put the bow away and determinedly didn't look at it for three years.

He could pinpoint the exact moment when he began to love the weapon. Three years after he stopped training with it, Thorin agreed to take Fíli on a hunting trip in the mountains. Kíli begged to be allowed to come, but Thorin flatly refused.

"_The area is too dangerous, Kíli. Maybe when you're older."_

"_I can defend myself!"_

"_Yes, against one opponent, who was not going for the kill. In close hand-to-hand combat, all it takes is one mistake, and you could be dead. You make far too many mistakes in the ring. I keep pointing them out to you. Do you think an enemy would allow you such a luxury?"_

"_I don't want to stay at home like a child!"_

"_But that is exactly what you are. You are a child. You will stay at home with your mother."_

"_Fíli's also a child!"_

"_He is more capable of defending himself against multiple opponents with a sword."_

"_What about my bow then? You said I was good with a bow!"_

"_You haven't touched it in three years."_

"_You told me that learning to shoot was like learning to ride. Once you know how, you never forget."_

Thorin had only allowed Kíli to come on condition that he took both his bow and his sword. In the end, it was Dís who had persuaded Thorin to allow Kíli to come with them, pointing out that if Thorin didn't, Kíli would follow behind anyway, and if Kíli was going to go no matter how the argument ended, she would rather he went with Thorin, so he could keep an eye on her youngest son.

It had taken Kíli about half of the first day to readjust to the bow, but his aim still remained as precise as it had when he had last touched the weapon, although he was far slower with it. It was his technique that had suffered from the hiatus. His draw was far clumsier, and he underestimated the strength in his arms, often drawing the arrow too far back. However, true to Thorin's word, it didn't take him long to adjust. After taking down a deer that evening, he was finally forced to acknowledge the weapon's usefulness. But he still didn't see how it could be of any worth in battle.

It was on the third night of their trip when it finally happened. They were camping on the path, cut into the side of the mountain, when Thorin heard a disturbance – the sound of stones sliding over each other as someone – or _something_ – fell. It was followed by hushed voices, but he didn't need elvish hearing to tell what it was.

"_Fíli! Kíli! Wake up!"_

"_What is it?"_

"_Orcs. We need to move. Now!"_

They didn't have time to run – It was fairly open ground, and it was only by sheer luck that they found time to hide. The orcs didn't immediately notice them, so Thorin hissed the order. Fíli hid in a small crevice, Thorin behind a large rock, and Kíli, for lack of anywhere else, clambered a little way up the slope to hide behind yet another. The orcs then noticed the remnants of what had been their fire the prior evening, and approached their campsite. There were about six of them, and after briefly ascertaining that there was nobody in sight, they took what was left of the dwarves' game. And then they noticed Kíli's pack.

He'd forgotten about it in his hurry to hide – Thorin and Fíli had both grabbed theirs, but he had left his there. He remembered Thorin's words about one mistake being all it took to cost someone their life. Leaving his pack there was all it took.

One of the orcs motioned for the others to be silent. Kíli, from his vantage point, watched as the orcs searched the area looking for them. Thorin couldn't see what it was that had caused their suspicion to raise, and Fíli had no idea what was going on, but could only pray that Kíli was safe. Until an orc appeared above his head.

Kíli could only watch as the orc shoved him roughly into the centre of the clearing. A rage such as he had never known built up inside of him, threatening to burst loose and cost him his position, which he was quite proud of finding – in his experience, people didn't tend to look up when they searched for something. And that was when he remembered his bow, slung across his back over his quiver.

He was not nearly as skilled with it as he had been three years ago, that was for certain, but he was still a decent shot. He fitted an arrow into the string and aimed it at the orc closest to his brother.

Thorin was preparing to launch a solo assault on this group of orcs, sword in hand, but as he was about to move, an arrow slammed into the back of one of the orcs. The orc let out a screech, before a second arrow embedded itself in the orc's neck. Three more arrows were shot into the second orc before they realised that they were under attack.

Fíli used their distraction to unsheathe one of his swords, and plunged it into the third orc's stomach. Hot, black blood spilled out over his hands, and he found that he couldn't pull the sword out of the creature's gut. The creature slumped forwards onto him, and Fíli didn't think he could let go of his weapon. Some instinctive desire kept him holding onto his lifeline.

Thorin shouted a warning, running from his hiding spot. Fíli, in a move not from any lesson given to him by Thorin, Dwalin, or anyone else trained in the art of combat, spun around, orc still on sword, and the approaching blow landed in the dead orc's neck.

Thorin swiftly decapitated the orc that dared to attack them, while Kíli continued to loosen arrows in their direction. He was more wary about who he aimed at, scared that he would hit either Thorin or Fíli, and only shot when the orcs were on the edge of the fight. As Thorin took care of the last two, he scrambled down the slope to check that his family were all right.

Thorin looked... different. He had never looked anything other than distant to them, save in snatches of memories from when the two brothers had been very young, and, Mahal forbid, _cute_, when he had looked upon them with unashamed love, and at least part of that still remained, as he checked over Fíli, undisguised concern in his every movement. Fíli looked shaken by the attack, but unhurt, black blood still covering his hands. And Kíli... Kíli felt _proud_. He had protected his brother, saw to it that he came to no harm, and looked down on the bodies of those he'd taken without an ounce of remorse. And he had done it not with a sword, but with a bow. The bow he now held in his hand had saved his brother's life. And he felt an enormous love for the weapon grow within him for that.

It was the first time either of the brothers had killed another being.

-:-

Tauriel fell silent in shock. Her eyes fixed on Kíli's left arm, folded into his lap, ending in a series of bandages, rather than a hand.

"You were an archer?" she repeated softly.

Kíli nodded, memories filling his head. Fíli had not handled his first kill well, retreating into himself, unable to assuage the guilt at killing another being, despite Thorin's insistences that it was a kill-or-be-killed situation, and that he'd handled himself remarkably well, and Kíli's own insistences that it was only an orc anyway, not a true person like a dwarf, or a human, or even an elf. Perhaps the most remarkable thing in Kíli was that there was _no_ change – he'd killed two orcs, and had carried on like it was nothing. Fíli's reaction was understandable, Kíli's... less so. In the end, Thorin put it down to Fíli being more mature than Kíli. _Fíli had understood the gravity of what he had done, Kíli had not._

Kíli's attitudes towards orcs had not changed in the following years, and had stayed the same right until the start of the quest. They had nearly killed his brother, and if he ever had a morality crisis, all he needed to do was remember that incident, and such morals were no longer a problem. Fíli had been no older than fifty at that time, barely a teenager. If they could kill a child with no qualms about morality, then he could kill them. But in his time with Azog, Kíli's reactions to killing orcs was more like Fíli's that night, and Fíli's had become more like Kíli's. Kíli had seen the dynamics of an orc pack. One clear leader – others were little more than slaves, only following because they feared what would happen to them otherwise, and because they had nowhere else to go. The other, 'better' beings were not kind to a lone orc found wandering in the wild.

That didn't mean that he loved the race. He _hated_ what Azog's company had done to him. And if the chance came, he would make Azog pay for his crimes.

"Still," Kíli said, with a forced cheerfulness, a smile on his face so fake it looked painful. "I have to keep up my aim. An archer never lets his aim go off." He threw the stone as hard as he could at the wall, without aiming anywhere. It ricocheted off the wall towards Tauriel, bouncing off one of the bars and down the corridor. He slumped forwards, determined not to let emotions get the better of him. He would not cry. He would not let Tauriel see him cry.

"Kíli, I'm-"

"_Don't!_" Kíli suddenly spat. "I don't want your _pity!_"

Tauriel closed her mouth, and stepped back. She had no idea what to say. She had learnt to distance herself from her emotions from a very young age, after watching her family's slaughter when orcs had attacked them on the road. Her father had been a merchant, and on the way back from Dale, orcs had come from the north and butchered her mother, father and brother on the borders of the forest. She escaped, but couldn't bear to return home out of shame. She crossed the Celduin, and wandered off into the forest. Scouts found her a week later, cold, alone, and starving. She was in denial about her family's death – the images she'd seen were too horrific, too fantastic, that they couldn't be real. She shut herself off, drifting through the next few years in a dream. Acceptance came slowly, as she threw herself into her new lot in life, training with wooden swords and blunt arrows, not allowing herself any time to dwell on what she'd seen. She buried her emotions, and when she finally realised that she would never see her family again, she had become used to life without them. She didn't shed a tear, save for in that week in the forest. She attended the funeral, but it didn't feel real to her, as though it was for another family that she'd never met. Since then, she never allowed herself to get close to anyone, and detached herself from her emotions. If you don't care for anyone, it doesn't hurt when you lose them.

So she decided to help Kíli deal with loss, in exactly the same way that she dealt with it – by taking his mind off it. She picked up another stone, and scratched an 'X' into the wall opposite the cell door.

"Let's see how good you really are," she said softly. "I bet you... one answer that you cannot hit the centre of that cross with this stone."

Kíli caught the stone she tossed him with a look of incredulity on his face.

"You said you didn't want my pity, so I'm not giving it to you," she said matter-of-factly. "Do we have a wager?"

Kíli blinked, before finally nodding, a smile breaking out across his face.

"So if I hit the centre of that cross, you will answer any question I ask?" Kíli clarified.

"Well, apart from the obvious – how do you escape from these cells, what's the secret way out of the prison, and so on. Basically you would owe me an answer, or I would owe you an answer if, by some miracle, you win."

Kíli laughed, the sudden continuation of the game the perfect antidote to his sadness. "Well then, prepare to spill your darkest secrets, because _that_ is easy."

He shifted himself into a more comfortable position, stone in hand while Tauriel focused her attentions on the cross. Kíli took his aim, and threw –

A note landed on his other arm just as he released the stone.

He tensed in panic, and the stone flew to the left. His hand immediately went down to cover up the note, unfolding it subtly and reading the line of text between his fingers.

_Find a way to convince her that there's a more serious threat than us in the forest._

Tauriel laughed as the stone went wide, and Kíli realised that Bilbo was standing right by them. And if Bilbo had given him this note, then he had a plan.

"'_Easy'?_" Tauriel laughed. "You missed it by a mile!"

Kíli forced a laugh, his hand closing around the note, which, by some miracle, Tauriel hadn't noticed. "I wouldn't say it was a _mile..._"

Tauriel grinned, before turning back to Kíli. "All right, my question... Who's Bilbo?"

Kíli's eyes widened in horror. "How do you know that name?"

She couldn't. There was no way in all of Arda that she could possibly know Bilbo's name.

"I ask the question," she said softly, sensing that she'd touched upon something – part of her didn't want to drag the dwarf in her custody back to places he'd rather forget, but she had a duty to her country; to her king. This was what Thranduil had asked of her.

Kíli needed to play for time. His mind was in overdrive, as he struggled to explain Bilbo in a way that wouldn't reveal that he had spent the duration of the dwarves' imprisonment wandering the dungeons of Mirkwood, conspiring to free them, while at the same time accomplishing the task that Bilbo had assigned to him, and wondering how on earth Tauriel could have learnt the name of their fourteenth companion in the first place...

And then it hit him.

"Bilbo Baggins... was our other companion," Kíli began slowly, the fictitious story still forming in his brain. "He was a hobbit, from the land of the Shire... and joined the company after being suggested to us by a friend."

"Who was the friend?"

"You get one question."

Tauriel looked at her prisoner sceptically, trying to discern whether what Kíli had said was the truth. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away briskly. Guard duty be damned – Thranduil needed to hear this.

"It's no good looking for him!" Kíli called out after her. "He's dead!"

She stopped in her tracks, as Kíli fixed her with a glare, his gaze boring into hers.

"Bilbo and I, we... we got into an argument. It was such a stupid thing, I can't even remember what it was... But I lashed out at him, and he... he ran off the path. He didn't return, and the next day, orcs found us on the path. The orc pack was _huge_ – nothing like I've ever seen. I think that they've been marshalling under new leadership, it was more like an army than anything else. I'm pretty sure that they had massed into an army, they seemed so _organised..._ Anyway, they cast before us this handkerchief... It was clearly one of Bilbo's, he had so many... They told us that they'd found him... in the forest... and-" Kíli broke off, hoping that the choke in his voice didn't sound as false as he thought it did.

Tauriel was at a loss of what to say. Kíli closed his eyes, and, for the first time since he had been captured, he finally lowered the mask that he always assumed around Tauriel willingly.

"I feel terrible about it," Kíli said, allowing all his feelings of guilt about how he'd lashed out at Bilbo to run riot. "The last things I said to Bilbo were... terrible. I lashed out at him, for no other reason than _because he was there_. I said them in the heat of the moment, and I just... I hope he knows how sorry I am..."

Tauriel was barely listening, knowing that Kíli's current words were of absolutely no relevance to her or her country. She'd seen orcs in the forest on the day that they captured the dwarves. She hadn't thought that there had been many, but perhaps it had been a scouting party for something much bigger...

"Hey!" Kíli called out as Tauriel turned and ran down the corridor without a word, a grin breaking across his face at the look of urgency across hers. "Where are you going?"

But she didn't look back, and as she rounded the corner, Bilbo pulled off the Ring, and glared at Kíli.

"Handkerchief?" he snapped. "Of all the things you could have chosen to represent me, you chose a _handkerchief?_"

* * *

"Milord, we have a serious problem!"

Breaking at least six formal etiquette guidelines, Tauriel burst into Thranduil's study, where he, Thindor and Legolas seemed to be having some form of meeting, without any form of announcement, not even so much as a knock.

Thranduil looked at her, his expression hard, wordlessly demanding an explanation as she struggled to regain her breath.

"The dwarf –" _gasp _" – Kíli – " _gasp_ " – he mentioned – there's an army of – orcs in the forest..."

Thranduil raised a single eyebrow sceptically, waiting for her to elaborate. One thing that had always struck Tauriel about her king was his ability to communicate so much without so much as opening his mouth.

"Apparently there was another member of their company," Tauriel finally managed to say. "He was a... a _hobbit_ by the name of Bilbo Baggins. He wandered off the path and was killed by a scouting party. The orcs then found the dwarves and chased them off the path, and that was when we found them..."

"You are sure of this?" Legolas asked, finally picking up on the urgency.

"Think about it," Tauriel explained. "When we were in the forest, just after we found Kíli and his brother, we saw orcs come close! When was the last time orcs came so far north?"

Thranduil turned to Legolas. "You never told me that you encountered orcs."

Thranduil's tone was angry, cold. It was typical of the House of Oropher, famed for causing people far braver than Legolas to cower before the Elvenking, and Thranduil's glare bore into Legolas, who, seemingly used to bearing the brunt of his father's anger, simply glared back.

"Technically we didn't encounter them," Legolas said defensively. "We became aware of their presence, but I made the decision to avoid a confrontation."

"Nevertheless, it is still important!" Thranduil finally raised his voice. "The last time orcs ventured this far north was when a darker power ruled in Dol Guldur!"

Legolas held his father's gaze, before an apology left his lips.

"Fix it," Thranduil snarled.

"Sir, with all due respect," Tauriel interrupted. "The dwarf mentioned that the orcs in the south had been marshalling under new leadership, heading north. We have not had the strength to cast the orcs of the south completely out of the forest, and if they're heading north-"

"I will not stand by and watch while that foul scum takes our home from us!" Thranduil yelled, his voice silencing Tauriel as it reverberated off the walls. "I have moved once due to them. I will not move again!"

Thranduil turned back to Legolas. "Do whatever you must do, but ensure that the orcs are cast from this forest, whatever the cost. I will not run from them again!"

"Adar-"

"_Just do it!_"

Legolas looked at his father for a long moment, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. "Are you asking me as my father or my king?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

A moment of silence followed, tension between father and son building to breaking point.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

**A/N: So between a music tech course, a wedding and three days of horribly long car journeys, during which the driver decided to take the scenic routes (which were insanely windy,) and various other things, I have not actually had a lot of time to write, so my apologies for the delay. I know that not a lot happened, and to be honest, I've been writing this in disjointed bits, which always makes the chapters worse. But the next chapter should be better, provided that the small child who is staying with us stops jumping on me for long enough for me to actually **_**write **_**the next chapter before we bugger off to Australia where I will have no internet until September. Thank you all once again for the reviews, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The next one will have far more action in it... You never know, the company might actually **_**escape**_**... Although I can't make any promises...**

**Now for a bit of shameless self-promotion. Some of you will have noticed that a not-all-that-important, not-going-to-exactly-change-the-world-in-any-way historic event has occurred. I have recently posted my first ever one-shot. It's called Sword and Shield, and it's essentially another Battle of the Five Armies fic. I know, when have I ever been known to write a story so short and devoid of endless plot twists that it is a one-shot? Is the world ending? Am I dying? The answer is... no. Nothing of any importance is happening. I simply read the book again and decided that it was necessary to write my own missing scene, and if it sounds like something that interests you, I would LOVE it if you read it and let me know what you thought!**


	33. Part 2 Chapter 12

12

"What's that?"

Fíli looked up at the guard, who was instantly suspicious of the sketches drawn into the dust.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Fíli said coldly.

"Well, given as how I'm meant to be in charge of guarding you, I think that I _do_ need to concern myself with it."

"Well, they're drawings," Fíli explained, his tone only getting colder. "They are drawings of an object, because when I have absolutely nothing else to do except sit here, I need to find some way of entertaining myself. So unless you wish to cut off my hands, then I will sit here and sketch this object."

"What _is_ the object?"

"Nothing I can use to leave this Mahal-forsaken cell," Fíli snapped. "And even if it was, I couldn't use it. I don't have it with me, and I don't have the materials in this cell to make it."

The elf glared coldly at Fíli, but before he could say another word, another, less familiar elf appeared, before muttering something in elvish. What followed was a heated, and decreasingly hushed conversation that could only be described as an argument, before both elves disappeared, the guard casting one last scathing look at the dwarf in the cell.

Fíli sat in the cell for a full minute, wondering what exactly had just happened to cause the guard to leave, before suddenly Bilbo materialised before him, gasping for breath.

"Did it work?" Bilbo gasped.

Fíli's bemusement was clearly evident on his face, because Bilbo gasped out a second sentence.

"The guard – where is he?"

"Oh, ah... Gone, I think..." Fíli stuttered. "Bilbo, what is going on?"

"When they increased the guard, I got Kíli to make up some story about me getting killed in the forest by an army of orcs – well, at least, I had him convince Tauriel – the elf guarding him – that there was a threat bigger than us, he simply used the idea of an army of orcs to explain my absence, because I think – well, I don't know, but anyway, I had hoped that the elves would send all their soldiers into the forest so that it would be easier to escape, and-"

"Bilbo, _slow down!_"

"Oh – right, sorry." Bilbo took a deep breath, before finally explaining all that had occurred between Kíli and Tauriel. Fíli listened intently, his mouth curving into a smile at the realisation that they might manage to escape the dungeons of Mirkwood with time enough to spare to enter the mountain after all.

"And I had no idea that it would work as well as it did," Bilbo concluded. "I just saw Thranduil leave his office, and he looked... stressed, to say the least... I think that he's had this sort of problem before, because I overheard-"

"Overheard?" Fíli repeated, an edge of jest in his voice.

"Oh, alright, I eavesdropped!" Bilbo snapped. "Or at least tried to. They were talking in elvish and I didn't hear the whole conversation, because I had to listen to your brother begging for forgiveness for about five minutes."

"And did you?"

"Eventually. He promised to explain to me why he lashed out once we escape."

"Yes, I heard that."

"Anyway, that's beside the point. The point is that the Elvenking shouted at Legolas, and he just went the armoury. The guard who just left you is I think the last guard to be pulled off _this _duty. They seem to think that this army of orcs in the forest is a really big problem... But hopefully we shouldn't have too many more problems with the guards..."

"Thank Mahal," Fíli breathed, leaning back.

"Of course, now we need to make sure that we get the keys before they wander off into the forest on a wild goose chase..."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

* * *

"_What!?_"

"Tauriel, I apologise, but-"

"But _what,_ Legolas?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow, sighing inwardly.

"_Sir?_" Tauriel exaggerated the title, mocking her commander's request for protocol.

"You are the captain of the guard. We cannot risk the dwarves escaping. You must stay behind."

"I am captain of _your_ guard!"

"And my father's."

"If you succeed, then I won't _need_ to guard your father!"

"And if we fail, then you _will!_"

"If I go with you, then I will improve your chances of success!"

"Tauriel, this discussion is closed!" Legolas finally raised his voice. "You are to stay behind. We are leaving a skeleton guard here as it is. Anything less than that and the dwarves might as well just walk out of the front door! And if we fail, then I will need my best soldiers to look after my father."

"Do _not_ try to flatter me, Legolas, it won't work."

"I simply stated the truth."

Tauriel looked down at the floor. "Wouldn't your best soldiers be of far more use by your side?"

"What is it that you're really upset about?" Legolas asked softly.

"I am _sick_ of always being told to stay at home, _safe,_ like some domesticated housewife!" Tauriel finally screamed. "I have proven myself of more worth than most of the soldiers in the army, and yet it is always _me_ who is ordered to stay behind! I am always treated differently, as _inferior_, because I'm female! I needed to fight so hard to gain the respect of those I command, despite the fact that I could beat them all in any fight without any form of difficulty! But how are they supposed to treat me like an equal when you always insist on me staying at home?"

"Tauriel, you understand that there is a good change of us not coming back, don't you?"

"Then I would rather die by your side than watch your corpses be dragged through the gate," Tauriel stated. "My father wouldn't let me help him, when..." She left the sentence hanging, needing no more words. "I do not want to watch my friends die as well, forever questioning if there was anything I could have done, had other people let me."

Legolas sighed. "I truly am sorry, Tauriel."

* * *

"Kíli!"

"Bilbo?"

Kíli looked around wildly as Bilbo failed to appear.

"Kíli, I don't have time to take off the Ring, that elf will be here any minute. They've had to pull away the guards to go and look for the army of orcs you invented. Look, I need you to distract the captain of the guards-"

"Tauriel," Kíli stated.

"Yes, her. The army's just left, and she didn't go with them, so I can only assume that she will continue to guard you. I need you to distract her for long enough for me to get the keys without her noticing."

"So what, just talk to her?"

"I don't particularly mind _what_ you do but just as long as you do some-"

Right on cue, Tauriel came storming down the corridor, her eyes bright. Bilbo scurried away from the cell door, pressing himself flat against the wall, doing his best to stay out of her way. Even in the dim light, Bilbo could see that something had clearly upset her.

"What's wrong?" Kíli asked, the note of mischief in his voice nigh on invisible.

"Who said that anything was _wrong?_" she snapped back harshly as she leant back against the exact patch of wall against which Bilbo had been pressed a second earlier.

Kíli hung his head as Bilbo caught sight of the keys, hanging off a clip on her belt behind her back.

"After all, it's not as though I've been told to stay at home _again_ while my friends put their lives on the line in the forest!" Tauriel finally snarled, sounding nearly hysterical. "The little girl who's told to run while her family is butchered by orcs! The soldier who needs to prove herself ten times better as any male to be considered half as good! The captain who has to drag herself through hell and back in order to gain the respect of her inferiors! All because I simply lack a certain part of the anatomy that, for _some_ reason, makes all male creatures think that they're so much _better_ than me!"

"I don't think I'm better than you," Kíli muttered softly.

Tauriel turned scornful eyes onto Kíli. "Yes, you do."

Kíli smirked. "All right, I do, but know that it's not because you're female."

Bilbo tried not to sigh as Tauriel adjusted her weight against the wall, hiding the keys from view. If he tried to get at them now, she would feel his hand running along her back.

"Really?"

"No. It's because you're an elf."

Bilbo snaked his hand along the wall, reaching out for the keys as Tauriel moved off the wall.

"Says the dwarf who's about half my height and locked in a cell," Tauriel finally managed a small, albeit forced smile.

"Mere circumstances. I was drugged when you caught me."

"Proof that you're an idiot."

"It was _your_ river that drugged me. I simply stuck my hand in to retrieve my friend."

"Your _dwarf_ friend."

"He, I will acknowledge, is an idiot."

Tauriel laughed, a watery sound as she walked towards the cell door, the keys swinging tantalisingly from her belt, within reach, but so difficult to extract undetected. "Ah, the arrogance of all males..."

"_I'm _not arrogant!"

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not!"

"_Do something!_" Bilbo whispered desperately, the noise camouflaged by Tauriel's laughter.

Bilbo could tell by the way that Kíli's eyes flickered momentarily to where Bilbo was standing that he'd heard. His eyes then locked onto Tauriel's, an almost devoted look in them.

"Tauriel..." Kíli asked, looking down at his knees almost shyly.

"What?"

"Is there anything more to this than simply being left behind?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I was just wondering... is there anyone who's... _risking_ _their lives_... who you worry about?"

"What, a friend?"

"I was thinking perhaps more than that..."

Tauriel narrowed her eyes as she knelt down by the door, much to Bilbo's dismay as she sat on the keys. "No," she snapped. "My duty is to my country, not to a _husband!_" She spat out the last word like poison.

"So you don't have anyone special in your life?"

"No," she snapped.

"_Hurry up, Kíli!_" Bilbo breathed, desperation getting the better of him.

"Neither do I," Kíli murmured, reaching through the bars and pulling her head towards his.

Bilbo watched in shock as Kíli pulled Tauriel forward and kissed her through the bars. His shock wore off almost instantly as his eyes fell on the glint of torchlight off the prize he coveted. Tauriel seemed to have frozen at the sudden movement of her prisoner, completely unaware of the third occupant of the tunnel unclipping the keys silently from her belt and stowing them in his pocket.

Suddenly, Tauriel regained use of her muscles and slammed her fist into Kíli's chin through the bars as she staggered to her feet, spluttering indignantly.

"How... _dare_ you..." she gasped, unable to fully comprehend what had just happened. "How _dare you!_"

Her voice rose to a shriek as her eyes locked onto Kíli who now lay sprawled on his back, his hand slowly massaging his jaw from the agonising uppercut.

"I thought you liked me," Kíli murmured stupidly, causing Bilbo to smirk at Kíli's plight.

"Well, you thought wrong!" she snarled, reaching through the bars and slamming Kíli against the bars. "If you _ever_ defile my honour like that again, I will personally cut your tongue out and make you swallow it!"

She threw Kíli further into his cell so that the back of his head smacked against the far wall, and stormed down the corridor. Kíli staggered to his feet as Bilbo took off the Ring and held the keys up triumphantly, a smirk on his lips.

"I got the keys," he said, his voice shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

"Do you have any water?" Kíli gasped.

Bilbo pulled his bag off his back and brought out a canteen, which he passed through the cell door. Kíli took a huge gulp, but rather than swallowing, simply rinsed it around his mouth and spat it out on the floor. He did this several times, before handing the canteen back, completely empty.

"That is the singularly most disgusting thing I have ever done in my life," Kíli gasped, spitting once more onto the floor. "I signed up for death, glory and gold. When Thorin mentioned sacrifices, I didn't think for one second that I would need to kiss an _elf!_"

* * *

**A/N: So when I heard that Kíli was going to be infatuated with Tauriel in much the same way that Gimli was with Galadriel, I thought that it was **_**hilarious!**_** So naturally, I had to incorporate some sort of twist in my story, although whether it worked or not remains to be seen... And you were all worried for Kíli! Although, he came off far more predatorial than intended, which was an accident, and I had to try really hard not to make it seem like Bilbo was groping Tauriel when he was stealing the keys... However, please note that while Tauriel will make a feature later in the story, she and Kíli will not get romantically attached again (if they ever got romantically attached at all, I'm not sure that you can call... whatever that was 'romantic'...) I confess I was slightly worried about this chapter, because it seemed so clichéd... However, it probably won't happen again, so that's the one bit of good news. Thank you all once again for all the reviews – not just for this story but for **_**Sword and Shield**_**, I am once again stunned by the amount of positive feedback, and it really makes it all worth it, and motivates the writing for the next chapter. So for those of you who said that you love my writing, the feeling is mutual! I hope you enjoyed this brief respite from all the crazy stuff going on with Kíli and Fíli and... lack of communication, I promise you that in Esgaroth we'll be back to doom and gloom, secret keeping, and just general depression. Although I'm not quite sure what to do about Smaug...**

**Until next time, amigos!**


End file.
